


A Forgotten Truth Will Break these Binds

by myaami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira POV, Betrayal, Death, Drowning, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Flashforwards, Friendship, Goro POV, Grief, Hope, M/M, Misguided Phantom Thieves, New Game Plus, Redemption, Rivals, Role Reversal, Suicide Attempt, Time Loop, mentioned abuses from the game, spoilers for the whole game, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaami/pseuds/myaami
Summary: A group called the Phantom Thieves is claiming responsibility for the recent deaths of criminals, but Goro Akechi knows they do not serve justice. When he begins his investigation of the Thieves and discovers that they have the same power as him, bonds of friendship and trust are tested and bent. But some bonds are meant to be broken.Goro doesn't believe in coincidences and Akira Kurusu doesn't take chances when everything is on the line—but that won’t stop the dice from rolling.





	1. A Forgotten Truth

**Author's Note:**

> The dice will roll, yet one more chance  
> To break this mold and dance the dance.  
> Again repeat, until we find  
> A way to snap these chains that bind.
> 
> This story is organized by months beginning in May 20XX, and is primarily told from Goro's point of view. An interlude signals a change in point of view, and/or if the segment is out of time with the main timeline.
> 
> 7/28/19: In preparation of posting chapter 4, I'm doing some minor edits to the first few chapters to better match the flow and tone of the last one. Thanks for sticking with me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with hope, we meet

* * *

_…`THE CONTRACT HAS BEEN SEALED. GOD’S DECREE IS ABSOLUTE`…_

* * *

**[Interlude, November 20XX]**

“You have your teammates to thank for this. You were sold out.”

And sure enough, after being thrown to the ground and handcuffed, I see my betrayers standing in the crowd before me: six people I used to call friends, plus one damn detective and his cat, both welcomed in with open arms only to use my hospitality against me. I should have known right from the start that he would be the one to break the trust of my confidants and ruin me.

I look at Goro Akechi and the Phantom Thieves, _my_ Phantom Thieves, but now they turn away from me.

* * *

_…“someone, be it god or demon, gave me a chance”…_

* * *

**[May 20XX]**

“A local high school volleyball coach has been found dead in an unusual manner after he received a threatening note yesterday. The police are on the case, including Charismatic Detective, Goro Akechi! This young detective has just cracked the case on the string of robberies plaguing the city, and he’s here with us today…”

The news report drones on as I slip out from under the store awning into the street. Anything to avoid the stares and not-so-quiet whispers from the people in the shop who turned their attention to my interview playing on the TV, even if that means getting drenched because of course my umbrella is happily tucked away back in my apartment. The little café down the street would be a welcome reprieve from the rain, but inside its TV is also tuned to my recent interview and a group of three students wildly gesticulate towards the me on the screen. Despite the promise of a dry roof, I want to avoid my digital double and people with strong opinions about me when I can, although there's something about this particular café that makes it more appealing than others.

The longer I stand outside contemplating my options, the larger the students’ motions at the screen become and the harder the rain falls. One of the boys inside turns to look at me because I must seem like an absolute fool simply standing out here, but now that I've been caught, there's no way I can just wander inside with my pride in tact. I gather my hair behind my neck to try and preserve some semblance of dignity and run for the next shop. Preferably one without a TV.

* * *

**[Interlude, September 20XX]**

“Crow, Morgana. Welcome to the Phantom Thieves.”

* * *

**[May 20XX]**

Friendship is found in unusual places, in unusual forms and under unusual circumstances. Currently, my best friend is an anthropomorphic talking cat who stalked me for a few days before we met in Mementos more than two years ago. Unlike the aggressive shadows I first encountered, he was careful not to be seen, but his light footsteps and little breaths could not escape my ears. He revealed itself after a few days, apparently done with stealth.

 _“Hey, you’re new here, huh? I’ve been watching you—”_  he had stepped out of the shadows and appraised me, _“—and you need my help.”_ I was apparently found to be lacking. _“In return, you’ll help me too. Make a deal with me. What do you say?”_

Surprisingly, that wasn’t even the strangest thing to have happened to me that week. _“I suppose… it would be fruitful to collect information from someone who is willing to help…”_ Its forwardness and human speech and mannerisms caught me off guard even though I knew it was following me. Curious that it seemed to prefer a diplomatic approach rather than a fight.

_“Meow-velous. My name is Morgana. It’s nice to officially meet you. Don’t worry, I’ll find you again when I need you.”_

I was not reassured by the little shadow cat, but there was not much I could do about it at the time, and since then, Morgana has been a wellspring of knowledge for understanding some of the workings of this place. He told me that my power is a Persona, my inner-most rebellious self. That’s similar to what Loki said during my awakening, telling me what I always wanted but was too afraid to take for myself. Morgana said that this place, with its veins that wind all over and strange sounds that come from everywhere and nowhere—this place has a name: Mementos. It is the collective subconscious of the city and part of the larger, cognitive Metaverse. The shadows I encounter are shadows of people, shadows of distorted desires. Morgana grew bolder and even pushier—I hadn’t thought it possible—and started to demand an exchange of goods for his information. I brought him samples of different foods and quickly discovered that fish was his favorite.

Today, after a hectic few days of school and work, I make a quick trip to the store before entering Mementos at our pre-arranged time. “Morgana? I’m here and I brought sushi.”

“Took you long enough,” Morgana pipes up. “I’ve been waiting for this!”

“Sorry, things have been busy.” He must be bored down here by himself all the time, waiting every day to see if I'll show up. I wish I could have visited sooner, and I’m hoping the extra sushi I brought will make up for it.

“It’s fine, but I’ve been waiting to give you some new information.”

“Oh?”

Morgana eats his fish and watches me. “I think there are other Persona users exploring the Metaverse. You’re not the only one anymore.”

My mind draws a blank. My mouth runs away. “What does this mean? Did they obtain their power in the same manner as I did?”

“At this point, I can’t be certain—”

“Do they also have an app to enter this place?”

“There are other ways to enter, but—"

“Would we be able to recognize each other in the real world if we saw one another? Now that my eyes are opened to my Persona, could I also recognize another with the same power?”

“Slow down, Loki,” he interrupts. I never gave Morgana my real name, but he’s seen me call upon my Persona a number of times when we fight Shadows. The codename stuck. “I know you like to think out loud, but I’m gonna stop you right now. I really don’t know anything beyond a feeling of a recently awakened presence. And I think they have a unique power like you do. It feels kind of familiar…” Morgana trails off.

Though he tries, Morgana can’t pinpoint any solid evidence. When I return home to take care of my cat Mona, I think about the implications of there being someone else like me, and wonder how I can find them.

* * *

The first step in my new investigation is to analyze the phone app. In this vast network of cell signals in the city, there should be a way to detect the rogue signal emitted when I am taken to Mementos. Then again, the app is likely too other-worldly to use our mere mortal technology. If I can somehow track my signal, I might be able to find others’ too, but my calling is not in engineering; who knows if this is even feasible, and it’s not exactly something I’d want to ask my co-workers about either.

What would I even do it I did find them? Are they the kind of people who could become as good a friend as Morgana had become? Would they even want to meet me in the real world? They would probably end up disappointed and then it would be completely awkward if we keep seeing each other in the Metaverse. Maybe it’s better if we don’t cross that line... 

I should know better than to daydream while walking around the subway—Sae Niijima has often called me out for my distractedness. Most of the time, she steps in to guide me one way or another around a pole or a person, but without Sae looking out for me and without Mona screeching from my duffel bag, my shoulder crashes into something solid, pulling me from my distracted thoughts and towards the teenage boy with curly black hair and large, thick glasses. He holds his arm where we collided, eyes wide in surprise and my apology gets stuck in my throat when I see another emotion there too: he is _affronted_ that someone bumped him. The two people with him round on me before I can get a word out.

“Dude, what the hell? Watch where you’re going!” the blond boy chides, sizing me up.

The girl sighs and flips her pigtails. “Seriously, some people have no courtesy for others.”

The offended look quickly vanishes from the face of the boy I ran into. He raises his hands towards his friends in a placating gesture, “Ryuji, Ann, it’s fine. No harm done.”

I start to apologize again but they continue over me.

“After everything we just did, we gonna keep lettin’ people push us around?” the blond boy demands of his friend.

“Yeah,” the girl adds, “you said that we all need to stand up—"

“Back off.” His tone shifts. The boy in glasses is no longer trying to play peacemaker, and they are all way too intense over an innocent mistake in the first place.

In the momentary lull, I try once more to defuse the situation using my most endearing celebrity personality voice. Honestly, it makes me sound a little stuck up, but it hasn’t failed me yet.

“I do sincerely apologize, I didn’t mean to start anything.” They look at me as if they just remembered I was there. I probably could have slipped away unnoticed. Well. Too late now. “I was lost in my thoughts and didn’t see you.” I hold out my hand to the boy in glasses as a peace offering. “May I treat you to lunch sometime?”

Introducing myself to strangers doesn't usually end well. Given my celebrity status, people usually overreact when I give my name, but the intensity of these three gives me pause, as if one misspoken word would cause the pigtailed girl and blond boy to call down fire and lightning, and the boy with glasses to rip me apart with his gaze.

Yes, situation diffusal seems prudent, but I don’t think it’s going well. My hand remains outstretched for a long enough time to be considered awkward by anyone’s standards.

“Well then…”

“Akira Kurusu.” The boy in glasses finally takes my hand, looking less ferocious than he did a moment ago.

            _…_ “ _case closed. this is how your justice ends”…_

 “Goro Akechi.”

            _…_ “ _your heart is always free. I'm envious”…_

A wave of disorientation breaks over me and I press my fingers to my forehead to ground myself. It’s gone just as quick. “I apologize if this is an unusual question, but have we met before?” The words spill out before I realize what I’ve said. Kurusu opens his mouth to respond but I wave my hands around as if I could swat away his words. I shouldn’t have asked. I nearly forgot about his intense friends and all their intense stares. I tell him to please ignore the question because I see _something_ there in Kurusu’s eyes that makes my stomach drop, regardless of what his answer might be.

I keep trying to take back my question, when a tall, skinny boy with dark blue hair approaches our little group and stops in front of Kurusu, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we were already in a conversation.

“I sense an incredible aura from you," he says out of nowhere. "One of bonds being drawn, pulling people into the slip stream of each other’s lives.” He holds his hands out in front of him, framing Kurusu’s face with his fingers. “Please, let me draw you!”

Kurusu looks at the newcomer, but I keep my eyes on Kurusu. He doesn't seem nearly as surprised as when I bumped into him. He must be used to this by now, being bumped and bombarded with odd questions by strangers in the space of ten minutes. But unlike me, this newcomer holds no reservations about personal space and first impressions. Kurusu’s bodyguard-friends are still shocked from the sudden shift during our earlier encounter from ‘pissed off to handshake’ and remain silent.

Kurusu is interested. He and the newcomer, who introduces himself as Yusuke Kitagawa, exchange a few words and their contact information. Kitagawa says that fate brought him here and claims he caught sight of Kurusu’s aura when he was following a black cat through the subway.

I’m interested too. Perhaps the pull I felt last month wasn’t towards the café, but towards Kurusu, the one who stared at me as I stood in the rain.

The conversation miraculously wraps up peacefully after Kurusu and Kitagawa diverge into a discussion about art. Kurusu’s two friends and I hover around in the background, not quite knowing what to say, but not quite wanting to leave either.

When Kitagawa departs, I leave with him and ask to learn more about what he senses from Kurusu. When I return home at the end of the day, I realize I forgot to follow through on my offer of lunch to Kurusu, and since I didn’t get his phone number, I now I have no way of getting in touch again without seeming like a stalker.

* * *

**[Interlude, October 20XX]**

“Despite the complete failure with negotiations, we can try stealing the treasure as our novice member Crow suggests. And if it doesn’t work, we can always fall back on our usual methods.”

“I have faith that it will work this time.”

“Faith? Crow. We have cold, hard evidence that it didn’t work last time.”

“No, Joker. We did not do it properly last time, so we cannot possibly know if it would have worked.”

“We’ll see.”

* * *

**[May 20XX]**

The Mementos atmosphere often reflects the seasons in the real world. Today should be a beautiful spring day were it not for Mementos’ humid and stale air. Admittedly though, the veins on the walls give off a fair amount of illumination to dispel the gloom.

As a part of my personal mission, rather than my persona-user seeking one, I meet a humanoid Shadow with yellow eyes. In the real world, I overheard people saying that its human counterpart, a woman named Chiyo, is emotionally manipulative to her co-workers. She delivers praise with backhanded complements then provokes others to sink to her level. If they do, she brings them down further. After hearing the rumor, I sought out her Shadow to confront it with these allegations and offer a chance to share her story.

“I’m sorry I made them feel bad,” her Shadow says. “They’re just so much better than me and I can’t help but be jealous. I have no way of ever matching up to their skill, or yours for that matter. The famous detective Goro Akechi come to see me? I’m nothing compared to you. You shouldn’t be wasting your precious time on me when you should be prancing around looking beautiful as always.” She sighs and lowers her head but her eyes stay on me, watching me. “I’m sorry.”

She reminds me of my mother: gold medal for Charm and world-class champion in Self-Deprecation. She reminds me of myself too, sometimes. The Shadow is silent, expectantly waiting for me to comfort her; she has already written the script in her mind.

“Chiyo, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what again?” She makes her face look puzzled, but I see right through it.

“You know what I mean,” I snap. It hurts to see her like this. I’ve seen it in the mirror. “I understand you because I’m like you too. Worthless, and wanting someone to tell you otherwise. Lasting companionship can’t be created using our methods. That’s not how you foster relationships.”

I wipe at the corners of my eyes. I can’t stay around her much longer but she needs another push. “I see you, Chiyo. I see you even as you surround yourself with bullshit. Everyone feels bad sometimes, but that is no excuse to take it out on others the way you did your co-workers. And if you wouldn’t take it out on others, what makes you think it’s right to take it out on yourself? You need to take a good, hard look inside. It’s painful and you will not always like what you see, but how else can you live, if you hate yourself so much?”

Something compels me to help others, as if I can make up for my past thoughts and actions. I’ve never been good at nurturing friendships; my talent lies in delivering the hard truths that people face when they examine the relationship they have with themselves or with others. The mind can get locked into a pattern, and sometimes that pattern needs to be shattered.

“Live for yourself, Chiyo.”

I leave the Shadow to return to her Self, believing she will choose life.

* * *

**[June 20XX]**

“Breaking news this evening: the critically acclaimed artist Maderame is dead. Preliminary reports claim he was found during his art exhibit with his eyes rolled back. A lot of blood was present, too much for it to have been an ordinary heart attack. An aide found a threatening card addressed to Maderame yesterday which had put him on edge. The card alleged crimes of plagiarism and abuse against his students. The unusual manner of his death is similar to the volleyball teacher from a nearby high school last month—"

I scratch Mona’s head and sigh.

* * *

Yusuke and I have meet up a few times since we met last month, and I've found him to open up the most when I offer to pay for a meal. I know Yusuke isn’t using me for food or money; I can recognize someone going through a difficult time as well as I can recognize my own face. The mirror again.

Our recent meetups have been especially difficult. I ask Yusuke how his painting is developing, tip-toeing around the elephant in the room, but Yusuke is a gentle soul. Despite the emotional abuse he sustained from Maderame, Yusuke’s face openly reveals his grief.

* * *

Part of my detective prince routine involves regular camera appearances. The topic of my interview today is the feasibility of the organized crime group, the Phantom Thieves, and the morality of the acts for which they claim responsibility. The TV and stage presence are a bit over the top for me, but the debate is enjoyable. Usually.

A familiar face is among the students gathered at the TV station for their field trip. He clearly remembers me too, whereas the other students in the audience make the usual gaga eyes, he looks at me differently. I must be staring a little bit during the interview because the host, presumably sensing my distractedness, walks into the audience to ask a question.

“Now then, let’s try asking some students the same age as Akechi about the rumored Phantom Thieves. How about this student here?”

Akira Kurusu.

“What are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they were real?” the host asks him.

“The Phantom Thieves… they’re justice itself.” He looks the same as he did on the subway: intense, yet trying to play it cool.

“You say that with such firmness,” I say. “Your mindset completely contradicts mine. I believe they should be tried in a court of law, though it’s rather intriguing to hear such a strong acknowledgement of these horrible acts.”

I have always loved debate. It’s not only about the argument itself, but about how the message is delivered. Does it appeal to emotion or stick to the facts? Would the other party respond to a humorous response with a flirtatious wink, or would that seem petty and desperate?

Kurusu doesn’t respond to my taunts, instead looking expectantly at me to continue. I push him to say more, going for emotional argumentation. “In that case, I’d like to ask a question too. Can you separate out your personal feelings? Would your response differ if someone close to you, for example your friend next you, received one of these threatening cards which suggested that the Phantom Thieves were after him? Compare that with how you would feel if it were instead a stranger you ran into once and only by accident?”

“What would you think?” At first glance, one might think his eyes are a dull, lifeless grey, but they are sharp. Piercing.

“Ah, throwing the question back at me, eh? My, my.”

“I mean it, Akechi.” He says my name like he’s concerned about me when in reality we’ve only met once before. “What would you do if your friend received a calling card? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to take a closer look at their actions?”

I almost tell him that I don’t have any friends besides a cat thank you very much, but I think about if Sae received a card. She has always been a determined and motivated worker and the nicest person in the office.

“It would be heart wrenching if accusations were made against someone I hold in high regards.”

“You would avert your eyes to a possible crime because of your own shortsightedness?” Kurusu asks, curious and condescending.

The other critical factor in debate is the presenter and the confidence and style with which they carry themselves. And boy, does this Kurusu have style. He tilts his head slightly when he asks the question, looking at me with big eyes as if _shocked_ that I would even _consider_ doing such a thing as ignore a crime.

“That’s not what I said.” The only way to argue now is with facts and truth. “I would take any accusation seriously. My feelings towards the individual accused must become irrelevant, no matter the source of the accusation.” He hums in agreement. “But the source is the issue, isn’t it?”

He scoffs and dismisses my idea with a flick of his wrist. “The source doesn’t matter if justice is being served.”

“Due processes must take its course. These Phantom Thieves hide in darkness. They are unknown and do not reveal the methods they use to uncover these truths or fictions, nor do they rely on the proper channels for investigation and fair trials.”

“What if they had already tried to reason with the guilty party, or tried to go to the police? What then, Akechi?”

“Then we, as police and as a society in general, need to do a better job of listening,” I admit. “It is slow progress, but people are embracing empathy and recognizing the harm in victim blaming. It tears society apart. The Thieves are misguided vigilantes, but if their sources are credible and can help to uphold justice, I see no reason why we can’t work together _within_ the scope of the law.”

When Kurusu smiles, its part admiration, part feral. He leans back into his chair and I mimic his motion—I hadn’t noticed I've been moving closer until I sat back and felt my heart racing in my chest—and he looks at his friends, nodding in approval. It seems I passed his test, though I can’t imagine what it was.

_…“you truly are interesting”…_

The host takes over the interview again, commenting that she has never seen me become so animated before. I laugh it off and we move on, but I'm already checked out. Despite the severity of the Phantom Thieves’ crimes, Kurusu had no problem publicly showing his full support of execution based on rumors. At the same time, the seriousness of the issue didn’t hold him back. Debating with him was like a game of strategy rather than my usual ‘TV debates’. And almost as if we were friends bantering over our favorite book rather than discussing extremely serious matters on live TV.

I hope we meet again soon, Kurusu. Undoubtedly understanding how you see the Phantom Thieves will bring me closer to the Thieves themselves.

* * *

“Yusuke, why won’t you forget about the bond you have with Maderame? You can now see that it was not as strong or healthy a connection as you once thought. I am afraid of how you will worry yourself if you do not try to move on.”

“It is not about forgetting, Goro. I will always remember this pain and what I have done. It is not pleasant.”

“I didn’t mean that you should ignore the past. It will always remain a part of you. There will be many times when you are not okay, but you can strengthen yourself knowing this.”

“A part of me… that same broken part of me which lead him to his death.”

“I cannot see how you are to blame, Yusuke. You looked for the best in somebody, and they harbored malicious intentions. You did not cause him to take the actions he did, and you did not cause his death.”

Yusuke looks down at his plate and does not speak or eat for the rest of the meal.

* * *

**[July 20XX]**

The fall of Kaneshiro is attributed to the Phantom Thieves.

Three deaths in just as many months, and I'm no closer to discovering the method or pattern to the selection of their victims. The volleyball teacher Kamoshida and the mobster Kaneshiro were local to this area. Maderame was a world renown artist, yet he was here in Tokyo at the time of his death. No way that is a coincidence. If Maderame was targeted prior to his arrival, him being here was the perfect opportunity for the Thieves. He could have been targeted after he arrived too, suggesting that these Phantom Thieves move fast. There was only a period of about a month between Maderame’s return to Japan for the opening of his gallery, and his death.

Besides the location of opportunity, each victim was sent a threatening card with alleged crimes the day before they were killed. The victim initially dismissed the claims as outrageous, but investigators have since found them to be credible. So, are the victims selected because of their crimes and the fact that they had escaped attention and arrest for so long?

There are still too many unknowns and unanswered questions, but chiefly, one: what is the method for committing the death? And two: who will be next?

One: how did all the victims suddenly suffer what seemed to be a heart attack, when autopsies showed their bloodstream was clear of drugs?

Two: how can the police find and protect the next victim, when the victims tend to be people with a history of laying low or evading the police?

I put my notes away for the night. “Mona, what in the world is happening here?”

He swishes his tail against my leg in response.

* * *

Sometimes I go to Mementos as a distraction to clear my mind from my classes and the mysteries of my police work. After all, this is the place where a new mystery unfolded two years ago and changed my life. The day began with a walk to the subway station like always, but when I had checked the time on my phone there was an app I did not install. I thought it was my co-workers at my internship taking their pranks to the next level, installing malware or something. Until then, they had been content to flood my inbox with cat videos—which I secretly appreciated—and videos of people doing dumb things—which I did not find as amusing. I tried to delete it, but I accidentally opened it instead.

Nothing happened. A prank, after all.

Then I almost ran right into the man in front of me because he was completely frozen. It was indeed a chilly day, but cold enough to stop someone dead in their tracks? But it wasn't just him; I looked around and everyone had stopped. The entire city block. A blue pillar of light flickering in the distance was the only motion and I was drawn to it like a fly to flame.

_{I am thou, thou art I}_

A voice resonated from the light and a figure emerged, tall and lanky. When my eyes had adjusted to the brightness, I could just make out the black and white stripes that crossed its body.

_{Thou who art heavy with chains of his past, I will help break and release thou from old and toxic binds. Loosen thine heart, and those who are similarly bound, and be free to let thy desires run wild}_

Setting aside the impossibility of what was happening, the words sang of _freedom_ , as if this voice was telling me to let loose, but that was contradictory to my upbringing. It was appealing all the same. It wasn’t as if I would abscond all responsibility, I just wouldn’t take things as seriously or feel as burdened by the expectations of others. Rebel, to be my true self.

The world reset and I was jostled back into motion by the crowd flowing around me. Before I could second guess anything, I deliberately pressed my finger to the phone icon. A weird sensation fuzzed through my head and I closed my eyes until it passed. Opening them again, the entrance to the subway station was still there, but everything was different. I walked down the stairs perhaps against better judgement, but I was emboldened by the Voice’s words. Mementos greeted me. Part of my mind was in an absolutely frenzy. The other part, insanely curious. Rounding a corner, I came face to face with an enormous blob of darkness. My attaché case was forgotten in my fingers and I backed up, matching the slow pace of the creature that oozed toward me.

I thought it was the end.

But really, it was just the beginning of something unimaginable. In that moment I had felt lighter and freer than I had in a long time after hearing the Voice’s words. They resonated with me in perfect harmony. Taking a deep breath, I planned for the conversation to go like this:

_“Now, look here! Whatever you are, you will cease your intimidation methods immediately and have a civil conversation with me.”_

What I said was:

_“N-now look he-he-aaaahh??!”_

As I simultaneously shouted and engaged in civil conversation, pain wrecked through my head, skull vibrating, Voice echoing—

_{Will thou give up on thy freedom so easily? Will thou continue to be bound? No. Not thou. Break it!}_

—and I _screamed_ and ripped off the visor that formed on my face, blood falling into my eyes but it couldn’t blind me. My eyes were finally open and clear and I knew just what to say:

_“Come, Loki!”_

What followed was a blur. The blob was gone, a helmet formed around my visor which reappeared, and I was clothed in the same black and white stripes I saw on the figure.

My later encounters with Shadows were more diplomatic, though Loki and Morgana taught me how to fight the ones who didn’t want to talk. It was during these encounters that I discovered some Shadows had a humanoid form and were connected to a human counterpart. I listened and learned about these people and asked for their name. Those who volunteered it, I followed up on in the real world. Later, I purposefully sought out Shadows of individuals I knew were struggling.

I try to help people. It’s not much, but if I can point out where people’s past and present are chaining them down, new bonds might be formed of their own free will.

* * *

“Loki, those Persona users are not like you.”

My heart sinks. Months spent trying to find a link, some way to connect with them, turned out a failure. Studying the app and phone signals was a dead end, so I considered the ways I changed my life in response to my awakened power. The major difference is in my regular exploration of Mementos, but I have never found another Persona user here except for Morgana, despite his insistence that he'd heard them. It's a big place, afterall.

“What makes you say that, Morgana?”

“The deaths in the real world, the three suspicious deaths you’re investigating, they’re being committed in the Metaverse and we need to stop them.”

It's like a punch to the gut. It was a supernatural occurrence from these Phantom Thieves? _They_ are the Persona users I’ve been searching for? It's unbelievable that I didn’t make this connection sooner, but I was expecting the Persona users to be more like me. After receiving my power, I have used it to help other, whereas they seem to use their power to enslave, to kill. What does that say about my Persona user kin?

_…“follow your true feelings”…_

I turn around, looking and listening for the whisper I thought I heard amongst the usual noises of Mementos, but there is nothing except a vague and nagging memory, like waking up after dreaming. I’m not even sure I heard anything at all.

Morgana won’t share how he knows about the Persona users, but it does beg the question of how Morgana knew about the deaths in the real world. Perhaps like me, he can leave Mementos somehow.

But perhaps more importantly, how did Morgana know that I, Goro Akechi, am investigating these three deaths in the real world, when Morgana only knows me in Mementos as Loki?

* * *

The hacker group Medjed is trying to blackmail the Phantom Thieves.

My latest interviews ask me to comment on Medjed and the ‘justice’ of the Phantom Thieves. I lament that three times they have used execution as a means of repentance after their victims’ crimes are made public, when they could have instead come forth with the evidence they discovered. One time is already one too many.

Medjed seems to have their eyes on me too. I receive a text message from an unknown number minutes after I end an interview.

_[xxxx] Tremble in fear mere mortal! Goro Akechi, you may call me Alibaba_

I suppose there’s no use hiding it.

_[Goro] At your service._

_[xxxx] That’s a lame response. Aren’t you freaked out! Aren’t you gonna ask how I know about you and how I found you?_

_[Goro] No need. I assume you are Medjed and that you have been following my appearances on TV. I also assume you are of like mind as me if you have reached out._

_[xxxx] Well damn. There goes that_

It’s hard to believe _this_ is the infamous Medjed who is blackmailing the Phantom Thieves. This person seems like a child playing a game. But if this truly is Medjed, they must realize the severity of the Phantom Thieves’ actions.

_[xxxx] Anyway. The PT are giving people like me a bad name_

What is that supposed to mean? Is Medjed actually condoning private killings—

_[xxxx] Before you go asking oh have you killed anyone?_

Are they actually about to admit to a crime over text message—

_[xxxx] No. Duh. But the principle is the same_

What does—

_[xxxx] Stop_

_[xxxx] Trying to type over me_

_[xxxx] And let me finish_

Yeesh.

_[xxxx] It’s like this_

_[xxxx] There are white hat hackers who fiddle around with systems on purpose and then report their findings to the security company to fix the flaws. Then there are others who maliciously exploit weaknesses_

_[xxxx] I’m a white hat, just doing my duty and letting people know what’s what. But the black hats ruin our good reputation. You get me?_

Their point is valid. Just because someone has the means to expose someone else, doesn’t mean they will act maliciously. Just because the Thieves have the means to reveal crimes and punish by execution, doesn’t mean they are right to do so. It’s like I’ve said in the past: it could be possible to work together with the Thieves and their sources if they are willing. First, we’d need to bring the killings to an end, and the Thieves must of course be tried for the crimes they already committed, but understanding their methods would prove enlightening.

_[Goro] I get you. How can we help each other?_

_[xxxx] I’m good at digging for info and I’ll leave it to you to put together a case_

_[Goro] You know what this group is capable of. Don’t expose your true identity to them._

_[xxxx] Who do you think I am? I never leave the house anyway. Much more comfy here in my own little world_

Finally, a lead to actually tracking down the Thieves when my own methods have so far come up short. Well, not exactly a lead, but a good contact has been made and progress will be forthcoming. If they are Medjed, I don’t need to worry about the hacker making a mistake and confronting the Thieves on their own. They should be safe in their investigation, unlike myself. It’s basically my job to speak out against the Thieves. Hopefully such visibility also makes me a riskier target for them.

* * *

The white hat hacker went silent after we traded information for a few days. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve had word. I hope they didn’t do anything reckless.

* * *

Mona has become more vocal lately. Since finding him as a stray more than two years ago, my cat is typically content to laze around when I’m home, but the dirt he tracks through my apartment suggests that he finds ways to get out and explore the city anyway. Sometimes I take him out for fresh air tucked into a duffel bag, but usually it’s me forcing him to come along. Now, Mona paws at my leg and swipes at my shoes when I try to leave the apartment. Then he sits on my attaché case. He stares at me. I stare back.

“Alright, Mona, just for today,” I concede. It’s hard to resist him. “I’ll get the bag. You’re lucky I’m just running errands today. You can’t do this when I go to work. You are incredibly cute, but sometimes cats are not allowed.”

Mona jumps in the bag and settles down. “Good boy.” I heave it up over one shoulder and hold my attaché case in the other hand. “You’re throwing me off balance here,” I complain. Mona gives a happy little meow.

After my errands, I pass the café I avoided on a rainy day a few months ago. I look in and can’t believe I forgot who works here.

I rush inside and Akira Kurusu greets me. “Welcome. You’re popular these days.” I catch my breath and sit down at the counter as he gestures toward the TV playing my most recent interview. Today I don’t care about being around my digital self; my business is more important than my pride this time. “You sure are brave. Out and about and not afraid to be mobbed by your fans?” He leans across the counter and whispers conspiratorially. “Or, the Thieves themselves?”

“The Thieves I can handle,” I say waving my hand. “It’s my fans I worry about.”

Kurusu grins. “What’ll it be?”

While I enjoy my coffee, Mona gets antsy in my bag. Making sure no one is watching, I open it for him a little more. Ever the opportunist, he takes advantage and jumps up and leaps straight out the café window.

“Mona!”

“What, did you let loose an evil spirit in here?” Kurusu is looking at the open window too.

“If my cat can be called an evil spirit, then yes. I’m sorry about bringing him in without asking. He’s usually very calm.” I stand and move towards the door. “I should go look for him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Kurusu says as he touches my arm. “I’ll set out some curry so he can find his way back to you.”

If the dirt I’ve seen on Mona’s paws is in fact from his city exploration, he has at least some sense of direction, and his yellow collar with my name and address will tell people he’s not a stray. I’ll give him a few minutes, then go looking. I trust Mona enough to know, or hope, that he won’t get into any real trouble.

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Akechi.” He lets go and prepares the dish.

“What I meant was, it’s probably a good idea to leave some food out for him.”

“It’s no problem.” He sets a plate of curry outside the door. I imagine it will attract more animals than just Mona, but I don’t want to ruin Kurusu’s good gesture. He ruins it himself by winking and saying, “I’ll just add it to your bill.”

I roll my eyes. “No such thing as a free meal, eh?” I take my seat again and he sits too, despite there being other customers for him to tend to.

“So. What do you _really_ think of Medjed? I have a feeling that sometimes the words you speak on TV are not what you want them to be.”

“What makes you say that?” I think he is trying to get a rise out of me.

“A talent of mine. I can pick out liars with my eyes closed.”

“Takes one to know one?”

He gently nudges my arm. “What’s with all the recycled sayings today? So worn out from your interviews that _cat’s got your tongue_?”

“I suppose you’re right, Kurusu.” I sigh, but can’t hide my smile. “These interviews are exhausting and take time away from my actual investigation. I believe most of what I mean, just not how I say it.”

“Very cryptic. But I think I understand. Even though you’re ‘Goro Akechi, Charismatic Detective’ in real life too—" he actually uses his fingers to put air quotes around my name, “—you still have an image to portray on TV. I think the only time you broke character was during our debate.”

I don’t confirm it, but he’s right. I did break character because I was caught up with him. It was the first time I had someone to talk _with_ instead of _to_. Someone who wanted more from me than just empty words and promises, listening to my meaning and responding thoughtfully. I don’t need to worry about keeping up appearances with Kurusu. It seems his opinion of me wouldn’t change if he knows how I really think.

Of course, we’re still playing a game, and I can’t reveal my hand just yet. Instead, I ask if he’s done a lot of acting himself.

“Not really,” he shrugs. “If I did, I honestly don’t think I could get used to seeing myself give that TV smile of yours.”

“Come now, what’s wrong with my smile?”

“You may be able to contort your face into that perfect smile,” Kurusu teases, “but I know the truth.” His voice is gentle. “You’re lonely.”

It’s like he’s kicked the legs of my chair right out from under me. I almost do tip over, but I play it off by then leaning forward across the counter to grab some sugar.

“And what,” I say slowly, “is the point of bringing that up?”

“Let’s be friends, Goro.” I look at him and feel that pull, that desire to be valued. He reads me like an open book.

            _…“you wanted to be acknowledged, didn't you? to be loved?”…_

 “I’d like that, Akira.”

            _…“let's make a deal, ok? you won’t say no, will you?”…_

His hand moves towards mine and he starts to speak but a crash near the front of the café cuts him off. Mona returns through the window and jumps back in my bag, a disheveled girl with long orange hair trailing closely behind him into the café.

“Oh, Futaba, it’s good to see you out,” Akira smiles at the girl. It’s forced; the TV smile he claimed _he_ didn’t have. The girl doesn’t speak. She looks torn between moving towards Akira and shuffling back out the door. I stop staring and turn my attention to my coffee. The movement registers with her and she looks at me, about to speak but clearly flustered.

“Futaba,” Akira stands and steps towards her. “Did you come to a decision? Why don’t we talk about it later.” He punctuates his words. That’s a strange way of asking if someone is alright, but she nods and decides to take her leave.

The silence of the café is broken again by Mona, hissing at Akira. “Mona, what’s gotten into you? Akira was nice enough to make you food—”

“—that you’re paying for—”

“—and this is how you repay him?” I pointedly ignore his jibe and get out my wallet to pay for Mona’s meal. “I’m sorry to leave so soon, but Mona must be at his limits for socialization today. I’d better take the poor thing home.”

“I understand. I hope you come by again soon.” Akira hands me a take-out container of curry with another wink. “This one’s on the house.”

            _…“you are truly beyond my comprehension”…_

I thank him and walk through the city with Mona safely secured. A few people stared at us on the subway earlier, but now I leave the bag mostly open for him to look over my shoulder. We stop in a park not far from my apartment, and find a bench for us to enjoy the fresh air a little longer.

“Mona, you should have behaved yourself. You were rude today. Akira is someone I’d like to talk to again so it’d be bad manners to continue to shout at him.”

Mona does not look sufficiently chastised.

“From just a few chance meetings, he seems to really understand me. But something is concerning.” I cross my arms. “He flips a switch and completely changes his personality, or at least the way he portrays himself to others. You know Mona, I probably wasn’t supposed to see how he changed when that girl came in.”

Akira was warm and kind to me, but cold and calculating to that girl. Just like our first encounter when he toned down his offensive attitude, shrugged it off then turned it back up to snap at his friends. At the TV station it was turned all the way up, but there was a bit of playfulness I doubt anyone else would recognize. At least, I haven’t seen that playfulness when he interacts with others in that way of his. He adjusts his personality based on the situation and who he is talking to in order to optimize the situation and their affection for him. Put like that, it sounds manipulative, yet during our encounters, it feels like he behaved the way he did because he truly understood me.

I murmur to myself, “Something is strange indeed about that Akira Kurusu.”

Mona shifts in his bag and a nearby voice purrs: “I completely agree.”

* * *

I learn that my ever-affectionate cat Mona and the Metaverse creature Morgana are in fact, one and the same. My mentor and teacher in Mementos, is my pet cat.

After Mona spoke, I ran home with my talking-cat-not-a-cat, unleashing a barrage of questions along the way even knowing he wouldn’t answer until we were inside my apartment away from curious eyes and ears.

“Mona, why did you only speak to me like this now? We’ve already been together for two years. For _two_. Years! Both here and there! Why not share this part of you with me sooner?”

Mona is used to my long-windedness, both from listening patiently as a regular cat and from _apparently_ talking with me as Morgana in Mementos. He patiently waits until we return home and I run out of breath.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t really remember my past.” It’s uncanny to see and hear Morgana’s human speech coming from my tiny black cat. “When I was searching for answers in Mementos, I found you and knew you were special. You had a wild power and needed looking after. But selfishly,” Mona pauses, “I was secretly hoping that being with you would help me recover my lost memories.”

“But why the deception?”

“I helped you when you needed me in Mementos. I didn’t think I should interfere as obviously in the real world. I’ve been here for you as passive support until now.”

In a strange, _strange_ way this is making some sense. I found Mona The Stray around the same time I awakened Loki. I thought it was just a fortuitous event. I’ve always liked cats but with my long hours away from home, I worried about owning one. Mona The Stray followed me home anyway and took care of me more than I could have imagined possible from a pet. Mona’s not a simple house cat, after all.

After nearly coming to terms with my roommates’ identity, I return to the topic I was thinking on earlier.

“Mona… Morgana, what do you think Akira is hiding?” but I already know the answer. I’ve had my suspicions ever since I met Akira on the subway in May. I could never put a finger on what has pulled me towards him, but I suspect it’s because his power is so strong. He immediately understood and adapted to me; he knew I was lonely and offered me a solution: friendship. My power is strong too; it pushes others to think for themselves. Pushing and pulling like the tide going in and out, we have been drawn to each other.

“He’s a Persona user. And a strong one. You need to keep an eye on him.”

If I didn’t already understand Akira so well, I wouldn’t be so upset about what this could mean.

 

**A Forgotten Truth**


	2. Will Break these Binds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dark secrets, we find

**[August 20XX]**

The hacker rescinds their offer to help.

After weeks of radio silence, all I received was a single text reading ‘Game over. Investigation is a no go.’ I didn’t bother responding. I can’t force them to tell me more, nor can I track them down. Now I’m back to square zero, or possibly worse if they ever decide to expose our conversations showing me willing to accept help from a hacker, regardless of their hat color.

* * *

A few days of non-stop school and work finally pay off when I get a much-needed afternoon of rest. I put Morgana in his bag, padded with extra blankets because he asked so nicely, and head to Akira’s café where I’ve become somewhat of a fixture over the past month, coordinating my visits with when Akira is working here instead of one of his many other jobs.

I haven’t told him my hypothesis, we’re not ready for that conversation just yet. Taking it slow is best for now, getting to know him and discover where his actually justice lays. Morgana says he is a strong Persona user and there’s a high probability that he’s part of the Phantom Thieves. My mind tries to rationalize it away: he’s being pressured, he’s being controlled, possibly by a corrupt individual who thinks they can mess around with the life of an impressionable kid.

My gut tries to tell me otherwise. I push that aside for now.

The orange-haired girl who froze in the doorway last month is here at the café today. Unlike the last time, she has come out of her shell, happy and bubbly around Akira. More evidence that people of all backgrounds and personalities are drawn to him. Yusuke, an eccentric artist requesting to paint a stranger. Me too, a lonely kid looking for a friend. Then this hermit of a girl opening up around others in public, one of many whose behavior has drastically changed recently.

Speaking of which…

I take my usual seat at the counter, order a coffee, and send a reply to the hacker’s last message.

_[Goro] Peoples’ opinions can change, but justice will always prevail. Nonetheless, I am glad you have made a friend. Laughter is good for your health._

A phone buzzes in the café, followed by a gasp and a _clunk_ of something falling to the ground. The orange-haired girl looks around, frantic. I keep my eyes trained on my phone and prepare for the incoming messages as the girl excuses herself to the restroom.

_[xxxx] What the what? You must be in the wrong place. I am most definitely not where you are_

_[Goro] The princess is indeed in this castle._

_[xxxx] Ugh so lame! I get that you’re trying to connect with me but seriously pick a more recent game reference_

I stifle my laughter with my hand.

_[xxxx] Well now you know. What do you want?_

_[Goro] I would like it if you could tell me why you suddenly believe that the Thieves are doing justice. This was not your viewpoint last month._

Akira looks towards the door of the restroom, worried about the girl’s seeming regression of behavior.

_[xxxx] I understand why they do it. It’s because no one else will help the victims. They helped me see that, in a way_

_[Goro] What about the black hat hacker giving the white hat a bad reputation?_

_[xxxx] Sometimes we must take drastic measures_

_…“his signal is gone”…_

She must have uncovered a critical piece of information during her investigation of the Phantom Thieves. That’s the only explanation. Enlisting the support of Medjed is clearly off the table and I doubt speaking face to face would help; she’s been strong-headed from the start and I don’t have as much sway as Akira apparently does.

Yet all is not lost from the loss of my ally. I can still salvage a critical piece of information: the secret about the Phantom Thieves that was the catalyst for her sudden defection. Something that caused her drastic change in behavior and mindset. And if the hacker is _this_ girl, in _this_ café, with _Akira_ , could the change be—

“You seem pretty interested in your phone today.” Akira taps his cheek and rests his head in his hand. “Normally you ignore it whenever you get fan mail.”

—because of another person?

“It’s not a fan this time.”

He smiles as if he genuinely cares about the happiness of others. “Oh? Another new friend? I’m happy for you, Goro.”

“Something like that,” I whisper.

I can’t face Akira for the rest of my time at the café. The evidence that he’s a Thief increased exponentially after the girl who is Medjed fled to the bathroom. The same Medjed who was investigating the Thieves, and who is now friendly with Akira. Nothing like this is ever a coincidence. The hope I’d been holding on to is waning. If it was an outside corrupter influencing the Thieves, why would Medjed suddenly decide to take up their cause when they were so against it just last month? Unless someone is manipulating her too. From her messages, it sounds like she really supports the actions of the Phantom Thieves.

Does Akira really support them too?

Akira says he's worried about me, and offers to leave work early so we can go elsewhere and talk. I want to, but I can’t confront him with this. Further investigation into him is going to change everything and I’m not ready for the fallout. Akira knows how to forge strong bonds, whereas I only know how to break them, and break our bond I surely would if I spoke up now.

            _…“you should have just abandoned me a long time ago”…_

I run my hands over my face and through my hair. My headaches are getting worse. I’m tired and have been hearing things that make absolutely no sense, spoken with the voices of people who have no right or reason to be saying such things in the first place.

* * *

A more proactive approach is required to catch the Phantom Thieves in the act. I skip work and stroll around Tokyo after school looking for suspicious people and come across a cat that looks suspiciously like Morgana. Knowing that he is not your average cat, I’m not worried he got out by accident this time. He, like me, has a purpose in scouting.

I’m curious. Keeping my distance, I follow Morgana who leads me to a girl with frizzy pink hair in a school uniform. Morgana gets her attention and then runs, teasing her to follow. She gives chase and they vanish in an alley, whisked away to Mementos.

Mementos feels different when I follow them in. It’s cold and quiet when it should be stifling hot in this summer heat. I wander until I find Morgana, now in his anthropomorphic form, and the girl, still in her school uniform. I surreptitiously eavesdrop on their conversation.

“… been posting to the Phan-Site? You realize that they kill people?”

“I do realize that,” the girl says, somber. “I hope that they could instead give him a scare. Nothing permanent, just enough to change his ways.”

Morgana pauses before asking, “Who is it?”

The girl looks away. “My father.”

Morgana’s ear twitches, then his expression becomes resolute. He leads the girl to a strong Shadow and she awakens her Persona, just like how I had. If Morgana hadn’t chosen her, I would have stepped in and helped her through her current agony. We both know this power is not for the weak of heart or mind.

“When you leave this place, you will see an app on your phone. Use it to return here,” Morgana instructs the girl after they defeat the Shadow. “You now have the same power as the Phantom Thieves. If you come here often enough right after school, I’m sure you can get their attention and make your request in person. Then you can work together.”

The girl is exhausted yet nods, satisfied. I return to the real world before I’m found.

What are you up to, Morgana? What are you not telling me that you’re willing to tell a stranger?

* * *

**[September 20XX]**

I don’t ask Morgana why he chose Haru Okumura.

I do set a GPS tracker on her phone to figure out when she goes to Mementos. I had my colleagues show me how, their opinion of me be damned. I recognized her school uniform as the same as Akira’s and spent one long afternoon flipping through a Shujin yearbook looking for her face and name. The tracker is unsavory, but I recall the white hat hacker analogy and push forward; this opportunity might finally let me make contact with, or at least observe, the Phantom Thieves in person and discover their true motivations.

Every time Okumura’s phone is near the subway, I try to go too but between my TV interviews and work load, my bosses are apathetic. They won’t give me time off despite my argument that I could make headway on the Phantom Thieves case. If I do manage to make it to the subway after school, I’m late and never see Okumura enter. The times I’m able to follow her into Mementos, she is always alone.

* * *

Okumura does not go to the subway station after school; her destination is elsewhere. Such a drastic change in her pattern must be important, which is why I immediately run from a co-worker in mid-sentence when I get the alert.

Following her phone brings me to Okumura Foods headquarters. I identify Okumura by her hair and duck behind a sign to observe, but I can’t see who is with her from my hiding spot. Discerning individual conversations in this crowded place is difficult. I strain my ears for anything out of the ordinary, anything unusual.

“I only have a few minutes before I have to return to work.”

“Boss is making me run errands again. Can’t get no respect…”

“The corporate HQ is outer space.”

_There._

I can’t hide anymore, but I’m too slow; by the time I leap out from behind the sign, Okumura and her group are gone.

This must be a new feature of the Metaverse app. One of them actually spoke to it and I can only imagine that they went to this outer space place. I tap the small microphone icon in the corner of the Metaverse app. Has it always been there? I repeat: “The corporate HQ is outer space.”

“Name required,” a voice chimes from my phone.

A name… a name and a place. Is this how they identify their victims—how they kill them?

Who would the Thieves want to kill now? Who has presented themselves as the best target? No, not the best target. The _desired_ target. Okumura said ‘my father’ when I overheard her and Morgana in Mementos.

“Kunikazu Okumura.”

“Destination found.”

The world transforms around me.

* * *

The app takes me somewhere different. It appears to be a space station with the same distorted air of Mementos. This must be another part of the Metaverse. Loki transforms me into my stripes and dark helmet. Having seen Okumura in Mementos after her awakening, I recognize her in her pink and black outfit, but not the others. _Well_. I have a strong suspicion about the one with the dark, curly hair behind the black and white mask.

A distorted power surrounds the Thieves’ Personas and I sneak along behind them to observe how they deal with the Shadows they encounter. A good thing I keep my distance too, because one minute I’m tailing them, and the next I’m grabbing my face and I hear a new Voice in my head calling itself Robin Hood, who proclaims that I am a seeker of my own justice, that I will always help those in need. A mask with a long nose replaces my black visor and I rip it off.

At first, I can’t reconcile Robin Hood’s words of _selfless_ ness with Loki’s _selfish_ ness. They are contradictory: how can I be selfish when I am required to help others? No, that’s not how it really is. It is my _choice_ to help others. That’s the reason why I became a detective, even though there are times when I get so bogged down with the day-to-day and paperwork that it feels like I’m wasting my time. Something new has awakened in me after watching the Thieves slaughter Shadow after Shadow. Justice for others, not only for myself. And sometimes, if needed, at the expense of myself.

            _…“I'll show you who I really am”…_

My clothes have changed from the oppressive black and white prisoner seeking freedom, to the heroic outlaw seeking justice. I look at my attire and examine my new mask and laugh. It’s drastically different from Loki and oddly familiar—I could almost predict what the mask would look like once Robin Hood had introduced himself—but this too, _is_ a part of me.

* * *

I make it my highest priority to follow the Thieves into what they call a ‘Palace’. The space station Palace looks to be endless, yet feels more bounded and smaller every time we enter. By tailing them, I learn their codenames and get a sense for what kind of people they are.

Today I follow them until they reach the end where they find Kunikazu Okumura’s Shadow. Here is where I see the ferocity of Joker firsthand.

Noir begs Joker not to shoot.

Skull hesitates too. “Joker, come on. Let’s not this time.”

Joker looks at the group like they are trash. His voice is ice: “This has always been our way. There is no path to redemption for those that have sinned to such a degree.”

They fail to persuade him. Joker raises his arm towards Kunikazu Okumura, gun in hand and Noir snarls, reaching for her axe.

“Wait!” I find myself walking towards the group, hands extended with the best of intentions—until I remember that no one knew I was hiding and so _of course_ I now have five guns trained on me. “… Ah, hah, hello there?” I smile nervously, lifting my palms and shoulders upward as if to say, ‘hello, I have no idea what I’m doing here either.’

Silence.

And then, confusion.

“Another Persona user?!” Panther exclaims, equal parts delighted and shocked.

“Whoa, what’s with the nose, dude?”

“There are more important things to discuss than his mask, Skull.” That’s Queen.

Noir moves her hand away from her axe before the rest of the group notices what she was going to do with it.

“Look at his outfit, he can’t be all that bad. He’s literally the personification of good.” Panther again.

“How did he know we were here at all?” A suspicious look from Queen. “Did you follow us?” She balls her free hand into a fist. Its trembling betrays her nervousness. “Do you _know_ us?”

Panther, Skull, and Noir already lowered their weapons, but Queen and Joker’s arms remain outstretched. Nothing I can’t recover from, I hope. I ignore Queen’s questions and finally lower my hands. “I propose there is a better way than resorting to violence. I have only had my Persona for a month,” I lie, “but have found success in negotiating with lesser Shadows and making them realize what is important to them. A change of heart, if you will.” I also purposely withhold the fact that for months I have known about their operation as Thieves in the Metaverse.

I hope my smile and words are good enough to disarm them, literally. I’ve talked my way out of countless situations before, of course those situations haven’t exactly involved negotiations with wanted criminals holding weapons. “Might I give it a—” I almost say ‘shot’, but that might remind them about the guns in their hands. “—try?”

Panther, Skull, and Queen turn to Joker who has been staring at me this whole time. Noir steps up, “Yes, please! This _…_ isn’t what I…” She squares her shoulders to Joker. “I am in support of trying alternative methods, Joker.” Her tone dares him to shoot the Shadow now.

I feel an invisible pull and push between Joker and the group but it’s got me now too, as if my arrival on the scene has altered the very group dynamics. Bonds that were already weak are now near non-existent; others that had been strong, are wavering; and others yet, renewed in strength.

Is this for the better?

The nod from Joker is so minuscule that I almost miss it. It might not have been a nod at all. More like an involuntary twitch of annoyance at my interference. Sensing that the group won’t take hostile action against me, for the time being anyway, I approach the defeated yet seething Kunikazu Okumura to talk.

* * *

“I understand. I am repentant. I want to change my ways.” Kunikazu Okumura’s voice wavers as he sits on the ground, no longer a threat.

The negotiation was exhausting. Reminding him of the relationships he should let go of, the restrictive bonds getting in the way of what he really wants, was the key to success. I congratulate myself on a job well done until someone clears their throat from behind me.

Oh, that’s right. I jumped in front of the Phantom Thieves and stole their kill. They must be furious.

I turn around and while they certainly do stare, fury is not on display. Noir is on the verge of tears and mouths a silent ‘thank you.’ Skull and Panther are between impressed and regretful, for some reason. Queen wasn’t expecting me to pull it off. Joker might be furious, but he hides it well. 

“Let’s retreat to the entrance. Then we can make a plan,” Queen commands and the others obey. An observer might think she leads the Thieves, but I know better: it’s Joker to whom they defer. Joker, the one who was ready to murder his teammate’s father before her eyes.

I chance another look at him as we leave the room, and he’s certainly not jumping for joy at my alternative approach to dealing with Kunikazu’s Shadow. I’ve thrown a wrench in his plans, and he needs to figure out what to make of me and how he wants to deal with me. For the rest of the walk out of the Palace, I try to make myself look less threatening. The way Joker’s eyes stay on me, I know he sees right through my illusion.

A girl hiding behind huge goggles waits for us at the entrance. This must be the Oracle they often talk to while exploring and fighting.

She points at me. “You—?” she starts but I quickly speak over her.

“You are, I assume, also part of this group? I encountered your comrades deep within this place. My name is…” I pause. In the heat of the moment I hadn’t introduced myself and I can’t call myself ‘Loki’ with my Robin Hood persona donned.

“The Nose?” Skull offers.

“Beaky!” Panther so helpfully suggests.

_…“it’d be a problem if you kept getting in our way. wanna come along?”…_

They continue to shout out ridiculous names until…

_Crow._

“Crow.” Joker speaks, at last.

_Now how did I know he would say that?_

“If you insist. You may call me Crow, then.” I hope Oracle takes the hint. She doesn’t respond, which is probably for the best. Her acting isn’t that good, and she might inadvertently give it away if she can recognize me. Apparently, our masks have a second power besides Persona summoning; they disguise our identities and make it impossible to recognize the individual behind it unless you already know exactly who they are. I don’t want to take any risks just yet.

“This place is a bit out of sorts, isn’t it?” I turn to Joker to recognize him as leader. “Why don’t we reconvene together in the real world?”

Joker doesn’t take the bait, nor did I expect him to. “I have a better idea. Let’s exchange phone numbers,” he counters. “That way our anonymity will be ensured while we figure out what to do next.” His gaze briefly shifts to Oracle, presumably to ask her to look up my phone number later.

I can’t have Joker underestimate me, so I pretend to be skeptical. “How do I know you won’t try to look me up?”

“And how do I know you won’t do the same?” He snaps back. “I assume you have connections to people in high places? People who _ask questions_ for a living?”

Damn, he couldn’t know who I am already, can he? _He_ hasn’t been following _me_. The only reason I think I know Oracle is because I had already suspected her from her association with Medjed and Akira. For all Joker knows, I’ve only just showed up and talked down a menacing Shadow.

No, he thinks he recognizes me and is trying to get a rise out of me to see if he’s right. I get my face under control. “I don’t think we know each other well enough to get so personal. I don’t even know your name, _here_ ,” I lead.

He grins, momentarily becoming a predator about to devour his prey, and steps towards me with his hand extended.

“Joker. I look forward to working with you, Crow.”

            _…“_ _r_ _est easy and die”…_

I clasp his hand and we exchange phone numbers as if our masks and our morals didn’t put us on opposite sides of the playing field.

* * *

“Morgana, I tried to talk them down.” I fall onto my bed completely exhausted after returning from the Palace.

“That’s good work.” Morgana settles at my feet. “Let me come with you next time. You and I work well together, and I can help if things go wrong.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

Morgana sighs when my phone beeps. It’s a new group chat with five others and myself. I recognize Okumura’s number from my phone trace and Futaba is probably monitoring the conversation.

“It’s from Joker.” I read the message to Morgana. “092920XX1700FL20.”

“What in the world does that mean?”

“It’s a code. A test. If I don’t figure it out, Joker will know I’m nothing to contend with and will probably try to have me silenced. If I do figure it out, that also gives him the upper hand especially if he is suspicious about who I am. Or at about least my profession.”

“Any thoughts, Goro?”

“Well it’s clearly a date and a time: tomorrow at 5pm.” I hear Morgana mutter something under his breath that sounds mockingly like ‘ _clear-ly’_. He must have been wanting to talk back to me while in his cat form for years. I scratch his head and he swats my hand away. I continue, “FL20 is the riddle here. It must be something related to Persona users, something only Persona users would understand. Perhaps, some _where_ only Persona users can go…”

_[Crow] Only at floor 20? Let’s go down to 30. I’ll even give you an extra day if you need more time :)_

The smiley face provides for additional fuel. They might not have reached floor 30 in Mementos yet. Joker must be reeling, confirmation of which comes a moment later.

_[Joker] 40. Tomorrow_

Joker is dangerous. Morgana and I have only explored down to floor 33, so I’ll need to cut school to make it to 40 on time. I wonder if he will be pushed to do the same.  

My phone beeps again, a single text from that unknown number.

_[xxxx] Dunno if you’re crazy or just insane_

This time, I respond with a winking face. I can practically hear Futaba sigh on the other side.

_[xxxx] Well don’t push yourself too hard_

_[xxxx] And don’t push him too far either_

That doesn’t bode well. The worst part is, I don’t know if she’s asking me to go easy on Joker, or if she’s trying to protect me from him.

“Goro?”

“Yes, Morgana?”

“Stop texting and go to sleep.”

* * *

Morgana and I make it to the 40th floor with time to spare. A feigned stomach ache lets me skip my last two classes to get a head start, Morgana already tucked away in my school bag—I need to keep a regular appearance at school since I know Joker is looking for me. I use the extra time to catch my breath. Fighting with Robin Hood is different. I keep expecting Loki’s raw power and agility and find myself shouting instructions that Robin Hood doesn’t know. In Okumura’s Palace, I barely called upon Robin Hood as the Thieves had mostly cleared the way ahead of me.

“Crow. I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Joker says by way of greeting as he and the others approach from further within the floor. Wait, does that mean they arrived earlier than us _and_ went further down, only to come back up just to make a point?

“Oh, not at all.” I grit my teeth and look them over. “If you’re all too tired, we can do this another night,” I say sweetly.

Joker appraises the Thieves and they shrink back under the weight of his eyes. He hasn’t broken a sweat, but the same can’t be said for his teammates. He pushed them too far and it is reflecting poorly on him.

“Now then, what shall we discuss?” I ask, trying to get Joker’s attention back on myself. His eyes sweep back to me and I falter too but this is no time to be self-conscious. I need to bluff my way into their group with confidence. “I actually, ah, want to introduce you to my teammate. Morgana?”

“Yo.”

Morgana and I decided not to tell them that Morgana knows a lot about how this Persona and Metaverse stuff works. Noir, it seems, has also decided to withhold information. She introduces herself to Morgana as if he wasn’t the one who helped her awaken her Persona.

“So, Morgana. Please don’t be offended, but what are you exactly?” Panther delicately asks.

“A fluffy ball of sunshine is what,” I say dryly. Just barely there, out of the corner of my eyes, is what seems like a smile from Joker. It’s gone before I can properly register it.

“H-hey!” Morgana acts embarrassed by my comment though we joke like this all the time. Trying to impress, is he? “I may look like this, but I’m really a human! In fact,” he puffs out his little chest, “I’m very unique!”

“Well, you’re certainly very cute!” Panther coos and Morgana’s shoulders sag.

Oracle pinches Morgana’s cheeks. “A talking cat, huh?”

“Knock it off!” He scrambles away from her. “I’m very capable. I’ve saved Crow countless times, isn’t that right?”

“Oh yes, I would be dead ten times over without Morgana’s support.”

It’s strange how easy it is interacting with Panther and Oracle. Even though Morgana and I are new to the group, they don’t seem to have strong reservations about us. I don’t completely let my guard down though; Joker is watching.

Skull squats down to get a closer look at Morgana. “Are you sure you’re not just, like, a little guardian spirit or something?” he teases.

“Are _you_ sure you’re not just, like… a knuckle head or something?” Morgana finishes lamely.

“Oh, wow, we got a real mouth on this one!” Skull calls to the others. “Better watch out, or we’ll have to wash it out with soap.”

_…“you’re your own person, you gotta know that”…_

My knees buckle beneath me but I play it off by pretending to take a few steps towards the group. I don’t think anyone noticed; they’re too busy gathering around and laughing at Skull and Morgana as they exchange half-baked insults.

For the past few months—come to think of it, it started when I learned about the other Persona users—I’ve been feeling and hearing things that seem to come out of nowhere, spoken by myself and others. As if it wasn’t already worrisome, perhaps a deterioration of my mental state from overexposure to the Metaverse, it’s now making me appear physically weak in front of them. I wonder if it’s our Personas fighting for control. Maybe there can only be one person with this strong power and something or someone is pushing me out. Have the others have felt it too? Unfortunately, the Thief I would most like to ask isn’t pleased that I’ve crashed his party.

Noir steps closer to me as the others joke with Morgana. “Crow, do you think the negotiation with my—w-with Kunikazu Okumura worked?” She looks so hopeful.

That is, until Joker answers. “We won’t know for a few more days. That’s how it works. What we do in here takes a while before showing its effect in the real world.” He barely spares her a glance. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” His attitude towards Noir is distant, like he’s not trying anymore. She’s the only one in his group he doesn’t fully control, and my appearance and actions have made it worse.  

Queen changes the subject before I can respond to Noir, asking Morgana and I what we know about Mementos. Telling them that we find the Shadows of ordinary people would be dangerous, given their reputation. Instead, we share how we talk down the lesser Shadows, the ones that look like demons. In turn, they tell us about the previous Palaces they found. ‘Voodoo dolls’ are what they call the Palace rulers. What little respect they have for the people whose Shadows they’ve killed. It takes a name, a place, and a mindset to travel to a Palace. It was extremely fortunate that I overheard both the place and mindset when I was tailing Okumura at Okumura Foods headquarters. If I hadn’t…

After the information exchange, I play my next hand. “Now that I have an inkling of how you have functioned in the past, I would like to show you how fruitful a negotiation approach can be.” It’s a gamble and this move needs to be made carefully. They still don’t know who I am in reality and I don’t want my opposition to their methods to come on too strongly just yet, lest they decide to not let me join. That is the next step.  

Joker frowns. “Fruitful how? What good does it do if we let people go without revealing their true form?”

“Their true nature can still be revealed without inflicting irreparable damage.”

He puts a hand on his hip. “Are you really able to stand there and tell me that the world is not better off without the people the Thieves have targeted?”

“The things those people had done were atrocious, yes, but—”

“What kind of closure can we give to their victims if they were to continue? Our targets were abusers and blackmailers. The law could not touch them, and they would have no problem ruining the lives of more innocents like us.”

He speaks so passionately it’s no wonder he leads and inspires them. Panther and Queen nod behind him, while Skull keeps his eyes on Noir, and Oracle lingers behind everyone.

“I agree,” I slowly concede, “that the Phantom Thieves are doing an invaluable service to the public by revealing crimes.” Joker is placated for now, and we leave the subject of how to carry out justice for another time.

He adds that the group is happy to continue to explore the Metaverse with us. ‘Happy’ is not how I would describe them, yet this is the chance I’ve been waiting for: I finally found my fellow Persona users, even though the connection I wanted us to have seems impossible. I finally tracked down the vicious Phantom Thieves, even though part of me does not want to reveal who they really are.

“Crow, Morgana. Welcome to the Phantom Thieves,” Joker says, and if I wasn’t already on guard, I swear gravity would have pulled me straight down to the ground.

            _…“the real fools, are you guys”…_

* * *

**[October 20XX]**

Haru Okumura leaves the Phantom Thieves after her father’s death.

She does not return to school and there is only so much I snooping I can do without overstepping my bounds. My detective status would allow me to question her, but I saw her anguish during the tense events of our Palace encounter and her tentative hope since then. I reach out to her as a friend instead and ask her to meet me at a bakery.

“Haru, we don’t have to be coy. You know it was me with you in the Palace and Mementos.” She makes a startled noise into her tea but does not deny it. “I acted on what I believed would be the best for your father. I now fear that was not the correct action.”

“No, I believe you had the right of it, Goro. Thank you for stepping in. I was extremely irrational at the time. Had you not, I don’t know what would have happened.”

I remember the look in Haru’s eyes and the way her fingers twitched towards her axe. In a fight against Joker, we both know it would not have ended well for her.

“I’m sorry the negotiation with your father failed.” I never knew my father, but even strained relationships can be mended. The way her father’s Shadow spoke about his treasured daughter during the negotiations was indication that he was on the road towards healing.

She is silent for a while. “Joker understands us and takes care of us. He didn’t give me my power, but he showed me who I could become with it. For that I am grateful.”

“You still won’t forsake him, despite the actions he was willing to take?”

            _…“I have no intention of forgiving you”…_

My eyes grow heavy and I’m somewhere else when I blink. Dark. Humid. I fight to return to the moment and direct my attention at Haru, struggling like when you’re having a nightmare but you’re partially conscious and trying to pull yourself out of the terrors surrounding you. Through all the murders, Joker has held the Thieves together and I need to know what she sees in him and where her faith springs from.

Despite my attempt to focus on her, Haru does not look up from her cup. “No. I can’t. Against him, we stand no chance.” She curls in on herself, small and defeated.

            _…_ _“but I sympathize with you”…_

I’m not blind to the power struggle within the Phantom Thieves, how Joker cares for them, controls them, but I feel powerless to help.

* * *

_[Joker] See? Negotiation didnt work. The result was the same_

Morgana’s ears droop. “I’m sorry, Goro. I think you needed to steal the Palace owner’s distorted desires, the thing they treasure the most, to trigger a full change of heart. I only realized it after Okumura died without changing. I don’t think it was your negotiation that caused his death.”

“It’s okay, Mona.” I pat his head and he leans into my hand.

_[Crow] I strongly recommend we try again. I’m afraid I was a bit overwhelmed after having met you all, but I discovered that we need to steal the ‘Treasure’ of the Palace’s Shadow for them to have a proper change of heart._

_[Skull] man do you have to text liek your talkin outload?_

_[Panther] g u could take some lessons  skull_

_[Joker] Tell me about the treasure_

_[Crow] The Treasure of a Palace owner is an object of great importance to them._

_[Crow] Somewhere along the way, they began to see the world as twisted, and their distortion stems from that object._

_[Skull] how you txt so fast dude_

My fingers are practiced in the art of texting. I’ll have to tell Skull in person later; it doesn’t seem appropriate for me to interrupt the conversation right now, even if he is willing to do so. Yet another fracture in the group.

_[Crow] By destroying it, or the symbol of it in their Palace, we release the person from their negative mindset._

_[Joker] And how do you know so much about it crow_

I bet Joker is staring me down through the phone.

_[Crow] I’ve done a bit of research about the Metaverse._

_[Joker] In the time since we told you about palaces just last week_

It isn’t a question. He definitely suspects that I was lying about when I got my powers and that Morgana and I know a lot more than we let on.

_[Crow] Yes._

The chat remains silent for several minutes. I imagine they have another group chat for everyone except me. Haru has been removed from this one, and Futaba is still lurking.

_[Crow] You will let me know when you enter Mementos, yes?_

_[Joker] If I feel like it_

_[Crow] Come now, there is no need for hostility. I will simply have to put a trace on your phone in that case._

I’m bluffing. We both know that phone tracking would be a cheap trick at this point. It might not end in ruin if we could just reach each other with civility and respectful debate.

My phone remains silent for the rest of the night.

* * *

Yusuke asks to see me in October. It’s been a few months since we last meet up in person, though I’ve tried to keep in touch. He’s more haggard now than when he first heard the news of Maderame’s death. His breathing is labored.

“I thought it would stop. But it hasn’t. After all these months, it hasn’t stopped.” Yusuke wrings his hands together, black paint speckled on his fingers. “The guilt… why can’t they see it? Their actions are not right!”

I can barely follow his train of thought. “Yusuke, do you still feel responsible for Maderame’s abusive behavior towards you? As I have said before, you only looked for the best in him, and his actions are not your fault—”

“No, no… my guilt is not alone… there are others doing the same as I. Complicit under his leadership.”

This is the first time Yusuke has mentioned anyone else. “Have you been in touch with the other victims of Maderame’s?”

“You do not understand. How could you? You do not know what he tells us and you do not know the power and confidence he inspires in us.”

“Yusuke.” I say firmly. “I think talking with Maderame’s other pupils is good, but you cannot blame them for their actions any more than you can blame yourself.”

“Goro.” His eyes are bloodshot. His voice shakes. “There is someone with influence, full of arrogance with power laced through his words. He creates bonds in the spirit of justice, and while he lifts you up and provides for you in his own cherished way, the bonds are foolish, and are truly selfish.”

“I don’t…”

“Despite that, all is not lost for him.”

            _…“what a warped thought. it's almost pitiable”…_

 _…the metallic smell fills my nose, the echo of his words reverberating off the confines of the room. I can’t stand to hear his pity. I don’t need it nor do I want it and as much as I am loath to admit it, I am captive to the words, thirsty for more. what_ is _this, radiating from him? this… acknowledgement of wrongdoing, but it’s something more, something more from all of them. there’s a word for it: forgiveness…_

Forgiveness? Is that what Yusuke is telling me? Rather than hate and rage against the one he admired and who ruined his life, Yusuke still has the capacity to understand them? To actually feel bad for _them_ , rather than himself?

Yusuke won’t say more about what he means. “I apologize for leaving it this way, though I must. You helped me accept what I have done and I have been trying to live for my own satisfaction and achievements, rather than what others want from me. I have broken my connection with him and am moving forward. It was, and still is, a bond that cannot be put into words. You will understand if you get to know him better.”

He leaves and I am too stunned to follow. His emotional state has deteriorated as if new tragedies were affecting him in the same way as Maderame’s death.

And it seems strange to speak about _Maderame_ , the one with influence and arrogance, as if he were still alive, and as if I know him personally.

* * *

“Our next target is Sae Niijima, a prosecutor looking into the alleged crimes of the Phantom Thieves,” Queen reports. We all meet in Mementos to discuss our next steps in the wake of Kunikazu Okumura’s death and Noir’s departure. “Niijima is preparing to falsify evidence and send an innocent person to jail. She will bring the case to a close, but not in the name of justice. Joker, I propose we try Crow’s method to change her heart.”

“Sae Niijima? Are you sure, Q?” Panther sounds worried.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve always targeted people like her, haven’t we?”

“I guess so…” Panther isn’t comforted by Queen’s words.

Joker steps in. “It’s a good plan Queen. Despite the complete failure with Kunikazu Okumura’s negotiations,” he looks pointedly at me, “we can try stealing the treasure as our novice member Crow suggests.”

The group nods. Almost as an afterthought, Joker adds, “And if it doesn’t work, we can always fall back on our usual methods.” I hear a duality when he speaks. I hear his lightheaded teasing. I hear his scathing bitterness.

“I have faith that it will work this time,” I tell him.

His laugh is cold. “Faith? Crow. We have cold, hard evidence that it didn’t work last time.”

“No, Joker. We did not do it properly last time, so we cannot possibly know if it would have worked.”

Joker is silent for a few moments. “We’ll see,” he says, flatly.

My best bet is to get everyone else on board. At this point I doubt Joker will understand, so getting his teammates to agree could be the tipping point, enough to show him that he can be wrong, that he is fallible.

Joker informs us that we will practice training together while we are here in Mementos. The Thieves always battle in pairs. One lucky Thief fights Shadows alongside Joker, who uses the strengths of each teammate to the advantage of the situation, trading them in battle for whoever is better suited in the moment. He’s always on the move, analyzing the weaknesses of the opponents and the strengths of the team he commands, and always swapping his own mask.

Joker has Skull, Panther, Queen, and I practice sparing in the safety of a rest area, while he and Morgana go ahead to fight deeper in Mementos. The overhead lights and veins provide just enough full light for us. It’s likely that they deeper you go in Mementos, the darker it gets, and the safe areas are no exception. I never noticed it before.

“We have so many people on the team that it doesn’t make as much sense to fight only two at a time anymore,” Skull bemoans when Joker is out of earshot. He looks at Queen. “Am I right?” Queen responds by knocking Skull on his back and she goes to spar with Panther instead. “You know I’m right,” Skull calls out after her from the ground, not at all discouraged. “There’s gotta be better ways to work together now.”

I imagine that Joker fights in pairs because he wants complete control over the battlefield and he can only divide his attention so much.

“Do you enjoy being up on the front lines, Skull?” I ask, extending him my hand.

He accepts, and I pull him up. “I don’t really _enjoy_ it in and of itself. But being up there with Joker…” his eyes become distant, as if remembering a fond memory. Then they become conflicted and sad, “…it’s something special.”

He laughs at my puzzled expression and slaps my back. “Come on, let’s get to it, Crow! I want to see if you’re as good with your saber as you are with your phone keyboard.”

When Morgana and Joker return, Morgana is glowing. Despite all he knows and suspects about Joker, he is running on high from the rush of adrenaline when he returns from Joker’s side. Maybe Joker has them fight in pairs because when he brings them into the fight with him, he empowers them. I should know better than to underestimate him.

“Crow.” Joker beckons me to the frontlines. “Show me what you’ve got.”

As we pass each other, Morgana whispers, “Don’t let your guard down.”

Joker leads the two of us into the darkness of Mementos, more at stake now than ever before. I’ve seen Joker rage against evil when he pointed a gun at Kunikazu Okumura and I’ve heard how passionately he speaks out against the misdeeds done to him and his teammates, believing that this is the right thing to do with his power. This will be the first time we are alone together, no teammates, no Shadows just yet, only our masks and our words to protect us.

Up close he might reveal another side to himself. Or slip up.

Joker moves with grace in this near-dark, as if guided by an invisible eye. I do my best to follow without letting my nerves show, but still a few times I have to reach out to make sure he is in front of me. He holds my hand for a few steps while I regain a sense of direction and balance before he lets go and continues forward.

My foot catches a stray vein sticking out of the ground, and Joker is there to steady me before I fall. “Thank you, Joker.”

“No problem, Crow.” He could have teased me about my clumsiness or my vision or any number of things to throw me off guard and show his superiority, but he must sense how uncomfortable I am in this darkness and not want to make it worse. Maybe he thinks I’ll be a liability. Maybe he wants to make me feel welcome.

After walking for a time without seeing any Shadows, I hear him stop mid-stride, and without verbal warning he grabs my jacket with one hand and slowly pushes me against the wall. With the other hand, he presses a finger over my mouth. This close, I can see his lips quirk up into a fond expression as he leans in to whisper, “Calm down, Crow.” I don’t realize that I was reaching for my gun and had grabbed his collar. I loosen my grip on him, but I don’t relax.

“Shadows around the corner. On my mark.” He breathes in. “Three.”

Time slows as the word hangs in the still air, cold, despite the warmth from Joker’s closeness and his breath on my neck.

“Two.”

His finger trails down my lips then moves to the edge of his mask as he shifts his weight against me.

“One.”

He pushes away, mask already ripped off and calling upon his Persona. It’s not until his attack collides with the first Shadow that I bring myself to follow. _Get it together!_ We both know I can do better than this.

“I knock them down, you take them out,” I call out when I finally join his side. I don’t wait for his confirmation. My first target is the largest Shadow. I pierce its weakness with my saber and before I can step back, a Ziodyne from Joker dissolves it into dust.

The next Shadow comes at me quickly. I dodge and debilitate it to slow its advance and Joker is there again to shred it. The remaining two Shadows try to protect themselves from our aggressive assault but are no match for Robin Hood’s Mahamaon: one Shadow is instantly wrecked, the other down on the ground.

I watch Joker finish it off. His eyes drift to mine, body still angled towards the Shadow. He shoots it without even looking.

“If you’re with me, you can do anything.” He turns from the Shadow as it leaks darkness and disintegrates into nothingness. “You have a strong sense of justice, Crow. It’s admirable for someone so young to have such faith in society and those who run it. Sometimes, people are misguided and need a gentle reminder.” _A reminder through death?_ Joker either sees my open disdain or anticipates it. “I know you disagree now, but I think in time you will understand what that means.”

“Death cannot be the answer, Joker.”

“Do you think we are so sick and twisted that we actually enjoy doing this work?” He holds a hand to his chest. “It makes us dirty. If there was another way, we would take it, yet we found no other way and society offered us no consolation.”

From observing Joker in battle, I had no idea he was capable of feeling… what, remorse? The behavior from the other Thieves suggests a different story, but not from Joker. He’s showing me something vulnerable. Which one is the real him? Can it be possible for him to be both?

“The ends don’t justify the means.”

“You’re right of course, Crow; they don’t. Yet we have a duty to help those in need, and it’s not without personal expense. These deaths weigh heavily on our souls. We do it for others.”

I cross my arms. “Murder can hardly be called altruistic. You absolutely cannot justify your own suffering in favor of this twisted rational.”

He hums softly. “No, perhaps not. But we understand all the consequences: for society, for the targets, the victims, and for ourselves. Does one not feel empathy when putting down a rabid dog, knowing it would just keep hurting others had we not?”

“It’s not a fair comparison equating people to animals, Joker. If we continue to resort to violence and thoughtless killings, we become no better than animals ourselves.”

“Unfortunately Crow, the people whose hearts we’ve looked into? They were already no better than animals in the first place.”

While the Thieves have no doubt helped people, they’re not innocent in this either. Their way cannot be the only way to save people.

When I don’t respond, Joker offers me a crooked grin, as if we weren’t just literally discussing matters of life and death. “Like I said, it’s okay if you’re not sure yet. Just keep going with me, and I’ll show you the truth.”

Despite how he talks about justice, there is nothing Joker can say to change mind about the killings they have already done. It’s wrong. It’s wrong it’s so obviously wrong, morality and ethics screaming ‘stop!’ Still, the nuggets of truth make it an extremely compelling argument. For the greater good of society. Stopping someone completely out of control when all else has failed.

Somehow, I can _almost_ forgive them for their past actions.

* * *

**[November 20XX]**

The Palace infiltration is the same as always: discover the keywords, break into the Palace, find the ruler, and send a calling card.

First, the keywords. The Metaverse app cannot be used to search for keywords while already in Mementos, and since we do not trust one another to meet up together in the real world, our two groups research separately. Sae Niijima is the name, so we need her place and her mindset. I offer the first.

_[Crow] The place is the courthouse._

The next message comes from Queen.

_[Queen] The mindset is a place of competition. She must always win._

It seems we both know Sae very well. After some back and forth, we settle on the word ‘casino’.

Second, the infiltration. We gain entry by climbing to the roof of Sae’s Casino. Inside the lights are colorful and jazz music plays as we leap across the rafters and chandeliers.

Third, the ruler. Dressed in a low-cut, floor-length gown perfect for a scandalous Halloween party, she taunts us by telling us where we can find her again, and by extension, her Treasure. The other Thieves look uneasy. It must not be common for Palace rulers to play along with the game but we stand in the very proof of Sae’s obsession with winning.

Fourth, the calling card. The Thieves had previously sent it to scare their victims, but Morgana explains that sending a calling card has a true purpose too: after it is read by the Palace owner, their Treasure appears. The treasure of all the previous Palace owners had been right there in plain sight, but no one knew what to do with it.

“I guess if your talking cat says so.” Skull has a way with words.

“Yeah, buddy? I’m not a cat.” So does Morgana. Skull, Panther, Oracle, and even Queen smile almost-real smiles from the comradery and the potential to expose criminals without dealing death. I wonder when the last time they truly enjoyed themselves was.

The new part of the plan is the change of heart.

“After the calling card is sent, we fight until she yields,” Queen summarizes. “Crow, you talk to her. The rest of us will find and steal the treasure. Got it?”

Everyone nods, including Joker. Regardless of if he believes in the plan or not, he must get a rush from the prospect of infiltration and action and victory. Another indication that we are not so different; we are down to the final round of the game but I intend to win it. I catch his eye and he must see the same wild look on my face too, because he throws back his head and laughs.

* * *

I find myself thinking back on one of my first interviews about the Phantom Thieves, and the question ‘what would you do if it were someone you know?’ I think back to the Shadows I negotiated with over the years, and the question ‘if you wouldn’t take it out on others, why do you take it out on yourself?’

We must be careful with this power. We cannot let personal feelings influence us. If we find ourselves inclined to show a bias towards one individual, we must stop and reconsider all of our actions. I can never allow the Phantom Thieves to kill again. No one, regardless of their crimes or my personal feelings towards targets of the past or of the present.

* * *

We have almost reached Sae’s Treasure and Joker has been looking at me lately after we fight together. Waiting for me to understand but never pushing, just watching.

After I take down a group of Shadows, Joker changes tactics and holds out his hand.

“Crow, will you join me?”

“I’m already here, aren’t I?” I say stubbornly.

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Well _yes_ , but you know that’s not what I mean. I know you have struggled with our methods and logic surrounding our past actions. I want to see if you understand, after having spent so much time with us all; we are not evil. We fight for the justice of others.”

“I believe you, Joker.” He looks surprised. “The others have told me what they endured, and their newfound strength and confidence is contagious. When we use our power for good, we really are unstoppable.” I’m confident that this change of heart will work. I have shown them how negotiation works with the weaker shadow, and there is excitement in the air leading up to the final infiltration.

He still holds out his hand, waiting for me. “Justice served by finding the root of the cause,” he agrees.

Just like how I’ve done in the Metaverse before.

He continues, “it’s the ideal situation: now that we’ve gained credibility, the police and Thieves can work together.”

Just like I always wanted.

“Unstoppable in our justice. Together, we’ll shape the world to save people.”

I move as close to him as my long mask will allow, too close for the handshake he offered. He repositions his outstretched hand to rest on my jacket.

“Who are you, Joker?”

“Your leader.”

“Who else are you?”

“Your friend. Don’t you agree?”

“What do you want?”

“You, on my team, with me.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re incredible, Crow.” I forget to breathe. “Unshakable in your ideals, a natural leader when you work with my team. You’re confident and once you know what you want, you’ll stop at nothing to make it yours.” He tilts the long nose of my mask down with his fingers and moves in closer. “Don’t you feel it too?”

_…“I bet we'd make a great team if we worked together”…_

I bring a hand to my mask, as I have done once before, or at least I think I have. There was a time when I stood before Joker, mask broken, revealing my face but that doesn’t make sense because he’s never seen Loki’s mask. In that forgotten moment, he saw me, but I can’t recall how he reacted. Was it hate? Disgust? Do I dare wish for compassion? I want to recreate the dream—and what else could it be but a dream—and reveal my true self once more, removing the remaining barrier between us. Then I’ll know.

This is Joker’s gift: he lifts you up and inspires you to feel like you can do anything if you’re with him. I have finally gotten through to him about stopping the killings. Since Sae is in the police, it would be difficult to assemble a case against her, but this change of heart will provide us strong evidence we can use against her in reality, with none of this killing.

And this is only the beginning. Our beginning. I see endless potential if I’m with him and what we could do together in the name of our justice. I reach for his face with my other hand and he guides it to touch his mask—

_…“ignorant of their true nature”…_

—I’ve also seen how he uses his gift to bend others to his will. Queen and Panther’s unease when he talks about Sae’s infiltration and Skull and Oracle’s wariness during Okumura’s Palace. Haru’s remark about his power and control. He’s lying. He doesn’t really want to work with the police to change hearts.

No, I haven’t convinced him of a damn thing.

Both my hands drop to my sides, empty. We walk back to the safe room, his silence the loudest absence of sound I’ve ever heard.

“Good work everyone,” he says when we regroup with the Thieves. “Let’s take a break and get some rest.”

At this point, I can’t tell if he really cares about our wellbeing, or if that too is another well placed lie.

* * *

Akira meets me after school to walk me home. I miss the days like this when we could just joke and laugh, less concerned about justice and more about coffee and each other, but the conversation takes its inevitable turn and we are sent crashing back into reality.

 _What do you think, Goro?_ He asks me.

I can’t change how I feel about the justice of the Phantom Thieves, but I can choose what I do about it. I’m sorry, Akira. I wish things could be different between us.

I take his hand.

_No._

* * *

Joker takes Panther into the House of Darkness with him, and Skull and Morgana as backup. He probably intends to have Queen babysit and question me, but I speak first. “What is he to you?”

She watches Joker walk down the hall with the others. “Everything.”

“Everything you always wanted to be?” I suggest.

“…Yes.”

I keep pushing. “And?”

“Everything I never wanted to be.”

_…“we should get going”…_

Once more, I’m back in the room from my dreams, my persistent, twisted daydream nightmare in which the Thieves had always been fighting on the side of justice and I stood opposing them. It’s just a fantasy, my subconsciousness’ attempt to romanticize the situation because I don’t want it to end the way it seems to be heading.

At this rate, none of us will survive the fall.

* * *

Joker enters the arena alone. Queen cheers for him wholeheartedly, as if his victory will mean that she is not wrong about him. Morgana stands next to Queen, watching the fight together, and I watch further around the ring with Skull and Panther.

Joker fights like an animal, fight-or-flight reflexes fully engaged in ‘fight’. He fights like someone who has nothing to lose and everything to gain, if only he can keep up the pace. He craves recognition, but he doesn’t pay attention to it now. Queen, Panther, Skull, Oracle, even Morgana are cheering for him but he’s completely lost to the tides of battle, trying hard to earn our love and respect. If he would only look up around the ring and listen, he would know that he already has it.

It didn’t have to be this way. I want to cheer for him too, but I don’t know what I would say.

What more _can_ I say?

After his victory, Joker stands in the middle of the room, lost in thought or perhaps just lost. He turns on his heel and walks towards me, extending his hand once more, and tilts his head when I don’t immediately respond. I’m unsure of what he’s up to this time, but I doubt he’ll do anything drastic in front of all the others. Slowly, I take his hand and he puts his other on top of our clasped hands, his thumb moving in small circles over my glove. He lowers his voice so the others can’t hear. “When this is all over, how about we get that lunch you promised me?”

“I’d like that,” but we both know it will never be the same as it was in those days on the subway and at the café, before he had fallen too far into darkness, and before I made it my duty to pursue him. I think of what I will do to bring him in, and he, how far he will go to stop me.

Akira Kurusu walks away from me.

“Hm?” Skull looks towards his leader. “Joker, we goin’ to peace out?”

“No.” His voice is dead. “We’re going to war.”

* * *

**[Interlude, November 20XX]**

I watch the flow of battle.

Everyone looks to me for orders and guidance, yet even here in my domain of the Palace, Crow is bending the bonds I nurtured with my team. Queen is more despondent than usual, even knowing that targeting her sister is only the natural progression of events for executing our justice. Panther and Skull hesitate when I call out commands, and I catch them looking at Crow. They don’t watch him because they are concerned about him betraying us; they watch him because they want to see what he will break next.

He took Noir from me after his selfish interference. I lost Fox to him before the Phantom Thieves had really gotten started. If he hadn’t met Yusuke that same day at the subway station, Yusuke would have listened to me, not clung to Crow’s “logic.” Emotions run raw here; there is no place for rational thought. Oracle has always been mine, even more so after I showed her the inner power of her Persona.

It was a fun game while it lasted, Goro Akechi. Together, you and I could have been unstoppable. I would have truly brought you into the Phantom Thieves to help you discover an endless well of power. When you decided to turn against me, you jumped headfirst into that well and I plan to shut the lid on you.

You don’t understand how I earned their trust over time. Despite how much I wish you were with me, you can’t just come in and wreck it. I won’t let you. By the time we steal this Treasure, my friend, my enemy, I will prove myself superior because you will be as good as dead.

_…`YOU HAVE LOST THE GAME, TRICKSTERS`…_

My poor, dear Crow. All that power and nowhere to go but down. You’ll surely drown.

* * *

“You have your teammates to thank for this. You were sold out.”

And sure enough, after being thrown to the ground and handcuffed, I see my betrayers standing in the crowd before me: six people I used to call friends, plus one damn detective and his cat, both welcomed in with open arms only to use my hospitality against me.  

I look at Goro Akechi and the Phantom Thieves, _my_ Phantom Thieves, but now they turn away from me.

_…`IN THE NEAR FUTURE, THERE IS NO MISTAKE THAT RUIN AWAITS YOU BOTH`…_

 

**A Forgotten Truth Will Break these Binds**


	3. through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in ignorance, we fall

**[Interlude, April 20XX]**

On the first day at my new school, I find myself alone in another world. And not the oh this school is so cool it's out of this world; literally _in_ another world. The sky is pink and purple, there’s a medieval castle in front of me with no way back, nowhere else to go but inside.

Not that I really expected otherwise, but the inside is equally distorted, if not more so. Disfigured shadows chase me as I look for a way out, knock me unconscious, and before I know it I’m waking up in a damp jail cell. Armored knights shove me against a wall and their ‘King’, and nasty looking man in a pink robe and a gaudy crown threatens to run me through with a sword.

I scream at the ‘King’ that he’s lost his damn mind. What the hell did I do to deserve this? Does being lost and trying to find a way out of this nightmare justify this treatment?

_{What’s the matter? Are you simply going to watch? Death awaits you if you do nothing}_

A deep voice rumbles in my mind, and I sag against the wall, unable to struggle anymore against my captor’s hold.

_{Was your previous decision a mistake then?}_

My previous decision?… Right, a decision that landed me in a different jail cell. After I helped that woman fend off some asshole who thought he could take whatever he wanted, I served a short stint in jail and was sent to Tokyo with no goodbye party and no place to call a home. But wallowing in my own self-pity will do me no favors. I was in a position to help, and I don’t regret that. No, it wasn’t a mistake! The aftermath was just the bad hand that society dealt me.

Luck has not been kind to me since then, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to die in a castle where my school should be, killed by a grown-ass adult in a sparkly robe.

_{Very well. I have heeded your resolve}_

I shut my eyes and grab my chest as my heart constricts. I can’t breathe.

_{Vow to me. I am thou. Thou art I. Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice}_

My own justice?

_{Call upon my name, and release thy rage!}_

Rage… I can feel it coursing through me, filling my head with power and my veins with steel. I open my eyes and rip off the mask that formed on my face, blood flying everywhere, a powerful presence looming behind me. Blue flames envelop me and chains clatter beside me.

“Give me your power, Arsene!”

* * *

After awakening Arsene and kicking some major ass, I meet a blonde-haired boy trapped in a cell similar to mine. I unlock his cell and as we run towards the entrance of the castle, I help him awaken to a power like mine. We are exhausted and late for school when we return to the real world, but promise to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Someone gets pulled in with us the next time Ryuji and I enter the castle—we figured out how by playing with the weird red app on our phones—and I help her awaken to a power of her own. Ryuji, and now Ann, look to me for direction as we explore this castle even though I don’t know what I’m doing any more than they do. It’s not something I tell them though; I can see how scared and uneasy they are. Our little band of misfits needs guidance, so I step into the temporary role of leader.

The ‘King’ of this castle is the volleyball teacher at my new school. We send a card with a note to scare him in real life, then beat up the other version of him. Ryuji writes the card and calls us the ‘Phantom Thieves’, breaking in and sneaking around in the shadow of reality. Honestly, it’s completely bizarre: the three of us teleport to another world, where there is a mirror image of our teacher, who is even more of a dick than in reality, but who we can fight without repercussion? Plus we get to run around in stylish costumes and take out our aggression. Therapeutic. Fun, even.

I go a little wild lashing out at the ‘King’. Ryuji and Ann told me what Kamoshida did to them, and I want to show them a broken man, even if it’s only a figment of our collective, messed up imagination or something equally unbelievable. Despite my delinquent label, I don’t have a tendency for violence, yet it’s incredibly satisfying to unleash my new power and beat the crap out of the ‘King’.

It barely even makes a sound when I shoot it point-blank in the head.

* * *

**[Interlude, May 20XX]**

Kamoshida’s death shakes us. Of course we had no idea that killing the figment would result in his actual death. This was only supposed to punish some version of him for all the shitty things he’d done. In fact, our rational was the opposite: we beat it up because we knew it _couldn’t_ have any effect on reality because the real Kamoshida hadn’t remembered our encounters in the castle.

In the end, the figment was like a voodoo doll; after we killed the doll, the owner’s death followed suit.

What started as cathartic and empowering has become highly depressing and wildly illegal. Together, we are all accomplices, with no idea of what to do next.

“We know death wasn’t our intention,” I say to Ann and Ryuji one day in Café Leblanc. It’s empty, the rain keeping customers and curious ears away from our conversation. “Even if our actions could be proven, we would claim ignorance and remorse. That day, we took justice into our own hands, even if the result wasn’t anticipated. It was supposed to be an immersive therapy session where you both could talk it out with your abuser, with the added bonus of knocking him around. Even if we did know what would happen, us talking to him in that place wouldn’t have been necessary if he hadn’t already committed bad acts. He was not innocent, and the calling card we sent was a truth that needed to be revealed.”

Ann and Ryuji mull it over, all three of us reconciling the fact of the death with the morality of the act.

The mood lightens a bit when the TV plays a story reporting a supposed coverup, that preliminary evidence was found linking the claims we wrote the on calling card to statements previously filed against Kamoshida. The news segment then shifts to a supposedly famous detective talking about a different case he recently closed.

“Think this guy’ll be put on our case?” Ryuji asks pointing at the TV. “He doesn’t look very capable, just a—” he makes circular gestures around his own face, then makes the same motions at the TV, “—a pretty-boy wannabe.” Ryuji wants the Phantom Thieves to be taken seriously, and we all agree it would be a waste if Kamoshida was treated as a random death after we revealed his crimes.

“Actually, that guy’s pretty famous,” Ann points at the TV too.

“What, _this_ _guy_?”

“Yes, _this guy_ , Ryuji. What’s the big deal?”

 _This_ _guy_ seems alright. Awfully young to be a detective, but then again, we are awfully young to have all this power and responsibility.

“Akira’s right,” Ann says when she and Ryuji finish arguing about the detective. “There’s no way we can be tied back to this, so I think we should be okay, even if this guy does look into it.”

One thing’s for sure: we won’t be doing this again. It was terrifying and death is still death, no matter how much it was deserved. Still, justice was enacted for Ryuji, Ann, and the countless students who had been victims of that piece of shit Kamoshida.

I look out the window into the rain, and see a poor soul running through, likely seeking shelter elsewhere, but I wonder how long it will take for the flood to catch up to us.

* * *

Someone knocks into me as Ryuji, Ann, and I head home after school. I immediately tense up. All this talk with Ann and Ryuji about taking justice into our own hands has put me on edge and I’m starting to see potential threats all around. Despite the fact that there is literally no evidence, someone might start poking around the student body and discover that Kamoshida had personally threatened and harassed the three of us. Then again, he’d threatened or harassed most the entire school.

When I recognize the person as the ‘ _this guy’_ detective we once saw on TV, I relax. He didn’t seem too bad in his interview. Kind of aloof and clumsy, actually. Ryuji was right about him being assigned to investigate the death, though we don’t believe he’ll be a real contender for figuring out the supernatural truth.

Just in case, I stop Ann and Ryuji before they reveal more than they should about our recent activities. Connecting our actions or attitudes to Kamoshida in any way would be a disaster, especially in front of the very detective searching for us. They seem to have taken my words to heart, that there is no proof, but we can’t deny being directly-indirectly involved in someone’s death. I downplayed for them a bit that we can claim innocence. Our tale is so far-fetched that if we are interrogated, the police will probably say we just can’t cope with what we’d done and be sent to jail anyway. Protecting my team from this truth is paramount.

I try to make nice with the detective who introduces himself as Goro Akechi. I accidently leave him hanging for a moment too long when he extends his hand, but he still handles himself with poise. Cute. And something about him reminds me of myself.

“Akira Kurusu.” I shake his hand.

    _…_ “ _case closed. this is how your justice ends”…_

 “Goro Akechi.”

    _…_ “ _your heart is always free. I'm envious”…._

“I apologize if this is an unusual question, but have we met before?” He looks surprised by his own question. Words rise to the tip of my tongue but my mouth can’t quite form them in time before the words and the memories fade away.

After hastily asking me to forgive his strangeness, which isn’t that strange in my opinion, someone approaches asking to draw me. It’s really quite flattering, and also not that strange either, but I guess that says a lot about what I consider to be normal. Who knows what he means by ‘pulling people into the slip stream of our lives’, but it’ll be good to meet new people who have nothing to do with our actions as Thieves in order for us to move forward and heal.

* * *

From talking with Yusuke, we learn about his abuser. He says he’s fine, but I can recognize a liar when I see one. I want to help, and as it just so happens, I have the means to do so; Maderame will never be brought to justice otherwise. I propose the idea to Ann and Ryuji and they agree. They are still riding the high of liberation from Kamoshida, and know they would still be trapped had we not done what we did.

We bring Yusuke into Maderame’s other art gallery, his very own personal Palace. This time, we decide to kill the voodoo doll on purpose.

* * *

**[Interlude, June 20XX]**

After Maderame dies, Yusuke is broken.

* * *

It’s a surprise to see Akechi at the TV station, but not an unpleasant one. I felt a connection with him from our first encounter, and he’s been aggressively investigating the Thieves after the second death. I’ve been following all his interviews.

Fate not only brought Akechi here to the TV station today but has now given me the opportunity to talk to him one-on-one—mediated through a TV talk show—and face-to-face—me in the audience, and him up on the stage—to gauge his reaction to the Thieves.

“What are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they were real?” I’m asked by the interviewer.

I ignore the interviewer and speak directly to Akechi, telling him that the Phantom Thieves are justice itself. At first, he responds with his lighthearted detective routine, so I remain silent and wait him out. Maybe if I stare long enough he’ll get uncomfortable or flustered and give something away.

“Can you separate out your personal feelings?” he finally asks me. “Would your response differ if someone close to you, for example your friend next you, received one of these threatening cards which suggested that the Phantom Thieves were after him? Compare that with how you would feel if it were instead a stranger you ran into once and only by accident?”

Trying to play personal, I see. This other side to his personality suits him. “What would you think?”

“Ah, throwing the question back at me, eh? My, my.”

He’s not getting off the hook that easily. I tell him I mean it, that I really want to know his answer. He considers the scenario and thinks, not just his pretty-detective-act-thinking, finally revealing his true feelings on the subject. “The Thieves are misguided vigilantes, but if their sources are credible and can help to uphold justice, I see no reason why we can’t work together _within_ the scope of the law.”

 _There_ it is: his honesty and his justice. I know what we’ve done as Phantom Thieves is right for victims like Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke. Akechi doesn’t understand our motivation but he sees potential in teaming up someday. I nod to the others; Akechi is someone we want to recruit. If only I could talk to him in private and explain how the good we have done for the many outweighs the death of the few; it’s simple Utilitarianism. The only problem is that he’s a famous person and I don’t know if we’ll ever meet like this again.

Yet from his distractedness for the remainder of his interview, I think I’ve made some kind of impression on him.

* * *

Makoto Niijima approaches me at school to accuse us of having motive in connection to Kamoshida, but she admits she has no evidence. Of course she doesn’t. The voodoo dolls aren’t things that just _anyone_ can see.

Without admitting anything, I tell her that the Thieves have targeted people who hide from the police, and isn’t that a service to society? She says they should instead share their information with the police after obtaining it, the same argument Akechi made, but he’s not ready for our truth yet. Niijima is starting to bend though, and I know I can bring her around to my side.  

“What if the Phantom Thieves’ methods aren’t ones that can be shared with _normal_ people, Niijima?”

She almost reprimands me, but she’s bending even more, considering what someone could do with the power to seek out wrongdoers who hide amongst the shadows.

“Show me.”

* * *

**[Interlude, July 20XX]**

When it’s over and Kaneshiro is dead, Makoto cries.

“Makoto, he was always a bad person,” Ann says. “His crimes we wrote on the calling card, that was the truth, and we know the police hadn’t been able to find him before we did.”

Ryuji puts a comforting hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “We’re the only ones with this power. We’re obligated to show the world who the scumbags are.”

Makoto shakes her head, not necessarily disagreeing with them, but because this must be so overwhelming. Whereas Ann, Ryuji, and I were inadvertently brought into a Palace and discovered this world, our powers, and its consequences on our own, we more or less invited Makoto to join us. I wonder if that’s what went wrong with Yusuke, if he wasn’t fully committed. Maybe I didn’t make him feel enough like a teammate.

I deliver the final point. “We were all abused, and no one believed us. No one helped us. This is us looking out for ourselves and for each other, Makoto. This is our own justice.”

Her eyes are still wet, but she’s stopped crying, a new determination radiating from her. She understands what we must do with this power.

* * *

My phone chimes with an unfamiliar number and an unfriendly message from someone calling themselves Medjed, claiming they can uncover all my dirty little secrets. They have no proof of our other worldly deeds, so why and how they decided to target me is cause for concern. I don’t want to say the wrong thing before consulting with the others, so the text goes ignored for the night. In the morning, we’ll decide the best course of action together.

Turns out I shouldn’t have waited even one night. The news story the next morning is “Hacker Claims to Know Thief Identity.”

Oops.

_[Akira] Sorry dont know what youre talking about_

_[xxxx] You know exactly what I mean! You’re doing bad things and you need to stop_

_[Akira] What bad things? What makes you think its me?_

_[xxxx] I have a sneaky suspicion_

_[Akira] Don’t you mean ‘sneaking’?_

_[xxxx] No, I mean sneaky! You’re sneaky and I suspect you, therefore, a sneaky suspicion_

What is with this person? It seems like it could all be a prank, but I know better: never take a chance. This far into the game, I must hold the best cards and know exactly what hand my opponent has.

I go for a different approach: playing ignorant to get them to lower their guard. It might reveal information which can be used to find and stop them. Or, I may be able to convince them to join my side.

_[Akira] You think Ive done some bad things and Id like the opportunity to prove otherwise. Can we start over? Lets play an icebreaker game. My favorite food is beef bowl_

_[xxxx] Curry and coffee. Sugar for the curry and maple syrup for the coffee_

That’s… strangely familiar. There have been times when Boss takes leftovers home from Leblanc, and I remember the oddity of his condiment choices. When I saw the syrup, I asked if Boss had made pancakes. He laughed and said he made no such thing—they are too sweet and bad for your health.

Medjed let something personal slip but I don’t alert them of anything just yet.

_[Akira] My favorite season is summer especially when it rains_

_[xxxx] I don’t care about seasons. It doesn’t matter when you’re inside most of the time_

So, a hermit and a hacker? I guess hermit fits with the hacker stereotype, but this person doesn’t seem like the stereotypical hacker.

Time for a team meeting to discuss our options.

* * *

Akechi has a talent for showing up when I least expect it. But unlike the TV station, Akechi and I are able to talk one-on-one without an audience today in Leblanc, and honestly I probably would have seemed like a stalker if I’d tried to reach out to him. He almost runs out when his cat jumps out the window, but I have a weird feeling that his cat is more than self-sufficient. It must be a smart cat, if Akechi is raising him.

I tease Akechi about his fake smile and his fake opinions in his interviews; it’s all part of getting to know each other.

“You’re lonely,” I tell him. It’s the same for me, but Akechi seems to cope with it better than I do.

“And what is the point of bringing that up?”

“Let’s be friends, Goro.”

Before I can say more—about him, about this strange feeling of déjà vu that isn’t really but what else can I call it?—the door of Leblanc is thrown open and Futaba stands in the doorway, hair, glasses, and headphones askew. I’d like to keep talking to Goro, but it’s too unusual that Futaba has left her room. She made a mistake telling me so much about herself. She knew I was living at Boss’ café but she didn’t expect him to tell me about her and her favorite foods. And he didn’t, directly. After all, I’m a delinquent in his eyes. Why would he trust me with information about his family?

When we found out Futaba was Medjed, we confronted her in Boss’ house where she would barely open her door to speak to us. Having a conversation with a group of people through a door crack was difficult; we were like a totem pole, all stacked up trying to get real estate at the door. We offered her the same deal as before: join us and let us show you we are not evil. She hasn’t accepted it yet, so maybe she came here now to give me her decision.

She looks back and forth between me and Goro. Shit. I’ve already admitted to her that we are operating as the Phantom Thieves, and here in front of her is the very detective assigned to investigate us. She could ruin us if she wanted to. This is spiraling out of control.

“Futaba,” I say. “Did you come to a decision? Why don’t we talk about it later.” I can’t be any more obviously not-subtle than that. Fortunately, she nods and leaves.

Goro wasn’t supposed to see that. It wasn’t my best face, but the situation needed to be handled efficiently and quickly. Before I can apologize or explain anything, Goro’s cat decides he doesn’t like me.

“Mona, what’s gotten into you?” Goro chastises. “Akira was nice enough to make you food—” My name sounds nice in his voice.

“—that you’re paying for—”

“—and this is how you repay him?”

The awkwardness is set aside, but not forgotten. I try to salvage the situation by giving him a smile and a curry to-go. Hopefully he’ll come visit more often. Ever the performer, Goro deftly avoided sharing his opinions about the Phantom Thieves this time, but after a few more conversations, I think we’ll be able to speak to each other more freely. I want to get him on my side.

* * *

**[Interlude, August 20XX]**

We make the dive into Futaba’s heart. She has demons that make her susceptible to dark thoughts, ever since her mother fell into a coma after a traffic accident. Having spent time time with Futaba, I know she’s not like the trash we’ve previously encountered. As I’ve done with those who came before her, I help awaken her powers. Instead of killing her, I bring her into our group.

I wonder if this is what Goro meant when he asked me about getting too attached to a target. Futaba had a voodoo doll and by Phantom Thief logic, we kill voodoo dolls. But Futaba hadn’t truly committed any bad acts, she was just in a bad place mentally. She hadn’t hurt anyone else. That should count for something.

My friends listen to me; they hear what I am saying to them. We saved ourselves from the terrible hand that fate dealt us. There’s a difference between Futaba and Kamoshida, Maderame, and Kaneshiro. Our kind of justice is doled out to anyone bad enough to have a Palace and a voodoo doll. It’s our societal obligation to find them and take care of them.

I pull out my phone to ask Ryuji. He’s been a loyal friend from the beginning and takes pride in helping the survivors. I don’t want to burden Ann with this line of thought; I tried once before, and she got defensive and upset when she thought I implied that our actions were worth nothing to people who suffered like her. Makoto—everyone, actually—were all so elated after we helped Futaba, and I imagine they would be very sensitive to this question right now. Not only did we save the victim as usual, but also the person committing the crime. I haven’t heard from Yusuke in months.

I decide against asking the others. As their leader, I can’t second guess myself. They look to me for strength, and I need to guide them forward in the best way possible.

_…`I TRULY LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING HOW YOU OVERCOME THIS PREDICAMENT`…_

There _is_ a difference… right? Does… does _everybody_ deserve to be saved? No. Not the bad ones. They lost their chance once they crossed the point of no return. That’s right.

_…`IF YOU CAN, MY TRICKSTER. IF YOU CAN`…_

Please tell me there’s a difference.

* * *

Futaba is still new to experiencing the outside world, so I can’t blame her for being startled and locking herself in the bathroom when Goro enters Leblanc, but I do worry. As I wait for her return, I watch Goro send text messages with a small smile on his face. It looks like he’s made a new friend. I’m happy for him; he seems to have been lonely for a long time. Since he’s been coming here so often over the past month, I’d like to think he counts me among his friends too.

His mood shifts after he finishes texting. He looks depressed, as if something is tearing him apart. I know not to pry, but I worry.

“Hey, I’m here if you need an ear to listen, Goro. How about I close up early today and we can get some fresh air.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to make you do that, Akira.”

“I offered, didn’t I? I don’t mind playing hooky with you for an afternoon.”

He smiles, regretful, and says ‘another time.’ He’s got a strong personality and more often than not we seem to hit it off, though there are times like these when I feel him pushing me away.

* * *

Summer break is upon us, and the team has grown stronger and larger. I text Yusuke to introduce him to Makoto and Futaba, but he doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore. I didn’t even say that they were new Thieves, I just invited him to a summer cookout at the beach with Ann, Ryuji, and our new friends. He thanked me for the offer but can’t, or won’t, make the time.

I don’t think Yusuke will say anything about what happened. It’s too wild a story for anyone to believe. The current theory behind the deaths is that some new, futuristic, bioengineered poison is being used by a mastermind group, like in the movies. But no evidence. It all circles back to that.

The other reason why Yusuke won’t tell is that he feels bad about it. Even though I personally delivered the kill shot—something that has become a signature move, where the others stand behind me in solidarity—Yusuke helped us gain entry to Maderame’s Palace and then fight through it. He fought against the voodoo Maderame once he heard him admit it evil deeds, but when Maderame went down, Yusuke locked up. Still, he stood behind me for the finale.

Yusuke’s self-preservation tendencies will emerge; he feels guilty but will not want to turn himself in, therefore I am safe. First and foremost, I need to protect my own. With so many eyes on us, we are moving into dangerous territory. Anything that makes it more difficult for us to continue with our mission is a threat.

* * *

**[Interlude, September 20XX]**

In addition to the Palaces of individuals, we discovered a big version of Tokyo filled with monsters to fight and improve our skills. We haven’t found anything of interest here, just good punching bags. We came to celebrate Oracle’s liberation from her room and her twisted mind. Instead, we find a masked girl waiting for us near the entrance.

She speaks formally. Probably nerves; she knows exactly who we are. “I understand that you are probably bombarded with requests, but as you can see, I have the same power as you.” She gestures to her black mask and feathered hat costume. “And I have a request.”

She asks us to target her father.

Surprisingly, Oracle speaks up first. “Does he truly deserve death?” Oh, right. Futaba’s mother is in a coma. I guess she finds it despicable that someone would want to willingly sever the tie to a parent.

“Oracle, let’s hear her out,” I say gently. “Maybe he does deserve it. Parents are people too.”

The new girl hesitates, then explains. “I would like for you, for us, to try to scare him. I don’t understand your methods except that they have something to do with our powers. I expect it would be enough for him to just see your power and receive your threatening calling card.”

This isn’t how we normally operate. I’m skeptical, but I don’t want to make a scene in front of the others.

Panther and Skull ask for more information, and as the girl lists her father’s crimes, Oracle’s posture becomes more resolved in consideration of him as a target, though she is still uneasy.

I welcome Haru Okumura into the group. Obviously, she had to tell us who her father is, and by extension, she introduced her real self. We have her at such an advantage if she were to betray us. At this point, she only knows our masked selves, and no one is stupid enough to use real names around someone we just met. After all, we are marking our fourth target.

Haru is a client for now, but a sense of comradery will form as we train together. It always does. However, this one will be different. I tell Haru that we’ll try her idea. I tell myself that it’s just for now. She’ll soon see that truly evil people cannot be changed.

    _…`YOUR REHABILITATION IS NOT GOING WELL. IN ACCORDANCE TO THE GAME'S RULES, THE DEFEATED MUST PAY A PRICE`…_

The Phantom Thieves demand the lives of villains.

* * *

Despite what I promised Haru, I know better than she does. People who have done the terrible things her father did have no path to redemption. Futaba was different.

Yet, my execution of Kunikazu Okumura’s voodoo doll is interrupted by someone in a long, red mask. My team is quick; we all take aim at the intruder—thankfully I’m able to get my shit together before the others notice how surprised I am. Red-mask seems aloof and nervous, not surprising considering all the guns, but he’s also got a confidence to him. He suggests we _negotiate_ with the voodoo doll, as if that will make it stand down. I don’t think it will work. These things aren’t real, they’re just dolls.

But it _does_ work. Or at least, Kunikazu Okumura stops putting up a fight. All cards on the table, it was quite a shock, but after red-mask’s actions, I feel him pushing on me and my team. Pushing us away from our original goal of taking justice into our own hands using our own methods. I’m not happy about it or the way he inspired Noir to speak out and contradict me in front of the others. Now he looks at Oracle as if he knows her. I need to get this one under my thumb quickly.

“Let’s exchange phone numbers.” I propose. “That way, our anonymity will be ensured while we figure out what to do next.”

“How do I know you won’t try to look me up?” He asks.

“And how do I know you don’t do the same? I assume you have connections to people in high places? People who _ask questions_ for a living?” What do you have to say to that, _Beaky_? If he hadn’t turned the same shade of red as his mask at Panther’s suggestion for a codename, I would have agreed, but I felt bad for the guy. ‘The Nose’ was also an excellent suggestion from Skull, and not just because of his mask. This guy is sticking his big nose where it does not belong.  

He pauses a little too long and I know I got him. This Crow seems a master performer who doesn’t let his surprise show on his face, so that pause speaks volumes.

“I don’t think we know each other well enough to get so personal,” he says when he recovers. “I don’t even know your name, _here_.”

I grin as he continues to play this game of guess-who that I started. Stepping towards him, I extend my hand. “Joker. I look forward to working with you, Crow.”

I clasp his hand and we exchange phone numbers as if our masks and our morals didn’t put us on opposite sides of the playing field.

* * *

The first thing I do when we return from Kunikazu Okumura’s Palace is throw myself onto the bed of my dusty attic room. I made sure the Thieves left first and knew without even asking that Crow wouldn’t try to follow. That would be cheating and would bring our game to a premature end. I want to get another rise out of him like that pause from when I insinuated that I knew him. A code message with a meeting place should do the trick.

“This will be easy for him if he’s as good as I think he is,” I say to my silent room. Sometimes I get the feeling that someone else should be here in my room with me, but that’s just wishful thinking. I started down this path alone and even though I’ve forged these bonds, I am still alone. Ringleader of these thieves, but not one of them.

_[Crow] Only at floor 20? Let’s go down to 30. I’ll give you an extra day if you need more time :)_

“Damn, he’s good.” We’ve gotten as far as 36.

_[Joker] 40. Tomorrow_

I’ll need to have everyone skip school.

* * *

Crow is waiting on floor 40 when we climb the stairs from floor 41. He makes a comment about how tired my team looks and he’s right; I pushed them a little too hard without realizing it, but they should know the stakes. Crow is dangerous, and we need to be prepared for whatever he is planning.

“Now then, what shall we discuss?” he asks in a pretend endearing voice.

_It’s your turn to show your hand, Crow._

He introduces us to a cat called Morgana. Morgana tells us the names of things: the Other Tokyo we are in now is called Mementos, part of the greater realm of the Metaverse. The voodoo dolls are called Shadows.

I defer to the others to sort things out. Skull and Panther are excited about more teammates and praise Crow for squaring off with the voodoo doll using nothing more than his words. Noir is mostly quiet and not as tense as she was in our previous meetings. She stands close to Crow.

Crow stumbles as Skull talks. I wonder what that’s all about? Come to think of it, he looked a little sick when we shook hands the other night in the Palace, but that might have been exhaustion.

Then again, everything he does seems deliberate, until it isn’t. To me, it’s obvious when he breaks character.

Queen senses my discomfort and tries to step in and ask the appropriate questions. She does a good job, but she doesn’t fully see how Crow has the potential to pull us all apart. You know what they say: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. At this point, I’m not sure which one Crow will become, but better safe than sorry.

“Crow, Morgana. Welcome to the Phantom Thieves.”

Though he tries to hide it, I know what to look for: the slight hitch in his breath, the way he shifts his feet and sways just a bit; he’s a hot mess about two seconds away from collapsing straight to the ground. What kind of game is he trying to play here? And does this make me his handicap?

* * *

**[Interlude, October 20XX]**

I don’t expect Haru to come back. She was so hopeful that Crow’s little speech would work but I can’t let someone like her father go. The others will never know what I’ve done.

_[Joker] See? Negotiation didnt work. The result was the same_

The way Crow is so knowledgeable about the Metaverse and Shadows, there’s no way he’s only had his power for a month. He and Morgana know more than they tell us. Don’t want to share your secrets with me, Crow? Fine. There are other ways to do this.

In our private channel we discuss Crow’s plan to steal the Treasure of our next target to induce a ‘change of heart.’ Ryuji is the most supportive. I’ll have to have a talk with him soon. The team just needs a good old-fashioned win, a good old-fashioned kill.

And for Crow to either leave us or join us in truth.

_[Crow] You will let me know when you enter Mementos, yes?_

_[Joker] If I feel like it_

_[Crow] Come now, there is no need for hostility. I will simply have to put a trace on your phone, in that case._

We both know he’s bluffing, but it still makes for an interesting game.

* * *

“Sae Niijima? Are you sure, Q?”

Panther needs to stop almost-revealing such personal information around Crow. This isn’t the first time, and he’s sharp; he’ll catch on sooner or later, if not already.

I interrupt her before she can reveal more about Queen’s relationship with our next target. “It’s a good plan Queen. Despite the complete failure with Kunikazu Okumura’s negotiations, we can try stealing the treasure as our novice member Crow suggests.”

The group looks assured. Damn Crow, giving them false hope. He keeps pushing on my team and the tears in the fabric are starting to show. They need to know where I stand. “And if it doesn’t work, we can always fall back on our usual methods,” I add.

Crow tries to play the savior. “I have faith that it will work this time.”

“Faith?” How naïve. “Crow. We have cold, hard evidence that it didn’t work last time.” The evidence of course, is that I returned to the Palace and killed Kunikazu Okumura’s voodoo doll myself. That’s why it’s so funny! If no one ever finds out, the others are less likely to believe in Crow. Queen might be worried about her sister, but she’s trying to prolong the inevitable: Sae Niijima has a Palace and a voodoo doll, and we take care of people like that.

Crow doesn’t give up. “No, Joker. We did not do it properly last time, so we cannot possibly know if it would have worked.”

“We’ll see.” Victory goes to Crow this round. I can’t deny him without revealing my secret.

To refocus the team’s attention, I instruct them to train with me.

Fighting together with Skull in Kamoshida’s shitty castle was like dancing, like breathing: fluid and natural. We anticipated and predicted each other’s moves perfectly, that is, after we figured out what the hell we were actually doing. When Panther joined us on the front lines, it was harder to coordinate. They would both try to heal and cover me at the same time, a wasteful effort.

So in pairs we fought, each partner a different dance that I adapt to. With Skull’s energy and strength, it’s like break dancing, flashy and always in motion.

Panther dances in battle like we are performing a ballet, stunning offensive and support skills.

Fox, during his brief time with me, was the waltz; elegant, even when slicing Shadows with his sword.

Queen, the salsa: quick, quick, slow; quick, quick, slow; attack, attack, heal.

Noir was the cha **-** cha: one two cha-cha-cha, heal buff bam-bam-bam.

Morgana is harder to characterize. We finally settle into the rhythm of a tap dance, mostly because it amuses me to imagine him with a top hat and toe shoes on his little feet as he tap tap taps against the ground.

Finally it’s Crow’s turn. It’s exciting to discover how to work with people, what they respond to, and what they do for you in turn. Crow is certainly not a pushover, but he needs to know that when he fights with me, I will protect him, as I protect all my others.

Crow is like fire. It’s a slow discovery; he’s nervous even though I know he’s a seasoned fighter. I find that I like dancing with fire. The dance is hot and exiting, despite the potential to slip up and burn and destroy. If you’re not careful, the flame will raze everything you love to the ground.

You only have two options: contain it or extinguish it.

* * *

I was wrong before. Crow isn't like dancing with fire. He _is_ fire, powerful, dangerous, but I have a plan to bring him to my side.

* * *

**[Interlude, November 20XX]**

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. Fighting beside Crow during our Palace infiltration made me feel so alive and not alone anymore that I am compelled to do something risky and try another approach. I skip my classes—well, that’s not new—and wait for Goro outside his school.

“Hey there,” I greet when he walks past without noticing me.

“Oh, Akira, what are you doing here?”

 _He knows._ He is polite and composed as always, but the lift in his voice asks which side of me I have come here as: friend or Thief.

I show I’m here in good faith. “Not happy to see an old friend?”

He smiles. “Of course not. You showing up here was just unexpected. But let’s move quickly, or we’ll soon be mobbed by reporters and fans.” He guides me by the elbow away from the school.

This is the first time we’ve been alone together like this in months. Leading double lives has kept us busy, even more so once our double lives became tangled. Despite the crisp November air, a light fog has settled in making it harder to see. I suppress a shiver.

“Let’s play a game, Goro. You ready?”

“I don’t know the rules.”

“That’s fine. You’ll pick it up quickly.” He loves a challenge, especially when he’s at a disadvantage. “It’s a detective game of infinite possibilities. ‘I come home and find red all over the walls. Then I start laughing.’ What happened here?”

He crosses his arms as we walk and rests a hand on his chin. “This sounds like a sociopathic murder mystery.” He taps his index finger against his check, watching me watch him. “But of course, that’s not the only possibility,” he quickly adds. “I could be a painter who came home to find my dog had kicked over my paint buckets. Or a parent whose child colored the walls with red crayon. What is the point of this game exactly?” He still looks unsure, but his voice say he’s curious.

“It’s your turn now,” I tell him.

“‘Someone starts walking down the wrong path.’” I wonder if he’s going to cross that invisible, yet inevitable line so soon. “‘His pants get wet.’”

“That one’s easy. He obviously pissed himself when he entered the haunted house instead of the bathroom!”

“I knew you would fall for it,” he grins and bumps victoriously into my side. I give him a playful shove back. “Though I was thinking more along the lines of, he literally ignored the ‘do not enter’ sign and walked into a big puddle.”

We exchange more stories, not taking care of the quickly fading light in the early afternoon, sneaking glances at each other and momentarily living a life without masks. Enjoying the other’s company as it should have been. As it could still be, if only—

“A person I care about receives a calling card,” I say. Goro falls silent. “What happened here?”

“The Phantom Thieves don’t have the authority to issue these calling cards. This story is a fantasy.”

“I have a different interpretation. The Phantom Thieves find out someone is getting close to discovering their identities. They want to stop this person. But it’s a friend, and the Thieves understand the difference between right and wrong. Together, they will work towards revealing the truth of others’ crimes.” We stop walking and I turn to him. “What do you think, Goro? Let the Phantom Thieves show you their justice.”

I’ve already asked him to join me while wearing Joker’s mask. Now, he gives his answer to me as Akira.

“Akira…” Goro rests his hands on my arms, then slides them down and intertwines his fingers with mine. “No.”

—he still won’t budge.

“Well. Thanks for the walk, Goro.” I step away from him, his warmth gone, everything gone. “But I can make it the rest of the way by myself.”

* * *

Multiple attempts at containment over the last month have failed. That beautiful flame must now be snuffed out.

* * *

“Joker, we goin’ to peace out?”

“No. We’re going to war.”

Obviously, that’s not what Ryuji was asking, but it sounds badass and I need to show my control to the others right now. I’ve had a private talk with each of them. We are going to trap Goro after finishing up with Sae Niijima in her Palace. Negotiate with her or not, whether she lives or not, that’s not part of the plan. I don’t care. The plan is to isolate Goro, take his mask to render him powerless, then shut him down.

I tell Makoto that he is a detective and a threat to us. If he reveals us, our lives are over. He’s too smart and too dangerous for his own good, and to welcome him into the group was a mistake. I tried to convince him but his convictions are too strong and he will not yield. He already destroyed Haru by giving her false hope. Once we identify a target, my way is the only way.

I tell Ann and Ryuji that he has not given up everything to truly become a member of the Phantom Thieves. He hasn’t gone through life-threatening and damning situations. He hasn’t been the victim of someone else’s abuse, so he can’t possibly understand the justice we seek to enact. Goro Akechi is not one of us.

I tell Futaba that he’s a liar and if he sends me to jail, how can I continue to help the victims of abuse? I violated the standard code of Thieves by not killing her voodoo doll because I saw potential in her. I’m not a monster. Only those that deserve it are killed. And we, who enter Palaces and see first-hand distorted desires, are in the best position to be judge and jury. I am the executioner.

My team believes me. They would never betray me, not after all we’ve been through. I thought Goro would feel the same way. I tried. Regardless, that rage Arsene instilled in me drives me forward to do what needs to be done. My natural ability allows me to pull people together and bring out the best in them, empowering them to stand up for themselves. If the Thieves see my actions as bad—well, they are just as culpable.

We have an unbreakable bond.

* * *

We take down Sae Niijima’s voodoo doll, and I learn that I am wrong.

_…`YOUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT`…_

* * *

**[November 20XX]**

I have turned Akira’s team against him, though it wasn’t much of a team anymore, not with how he held everyone together lately, either constantly on edge or feeling compelled to continue on because they were so guilty about their actions. They already knew this was not justice. All that was needed was to realize there is another way.

By the time I met Akira and figured out what was going on, I was too late. If Akira had someone beside him from the start to show him another path, could he have been saved too?

    _…“it's no use talking in hypotheticals. that didn't happen in reality”…_

Unfortunately, that’s true. Nonetheless, the Phantom Thieves all agreed that Akira was too unstable to let him continue. As I got to know them over these past months, each laid down their burdens:

I spoke with Panther and Skull when Joker was fighting alone in Sae’s Casino. They revealed themselves as Ann Takamaki and Ryuji Sakamoto, whom I had run into on several occasions with Akira. Ryuji had been with Akira since the beginning and believed in helping the victims of abuse. Death after death, he saw how it changed Akira, how Akira stopped confiding in them. It used to be about justice. Now even the cries of a teammate would not sway him anymore, and Akira was preparing to do it again with the Niijima’s.

Ann had wanted her abuser brought to justice and felt indebted to Akira after Kamoshida. She was never comfortable with the continued killings, but she didn’t think there was another way, because Akira had told her that _this_ was their only way. Ann shoulders a great deal of personal blame. She’s frustrated for being manipulated by Akira, that she didn’t stop to think for herself, but it’s hard to deny our friends when we care about them and have been through so much together. It’s hard to step back and be objective.

Since we first met in June, Yusuke had been confiding in me his persistent feelings of guilt. Eventually, I realized it was guilt not of being a victim of Maderame, but of feeling complicit in letting Akira kill Maderame. A victim of the second victim and one-time Phantom Thief, beside me this whole time too.

Queen turned out to be Niijima’s younger sister, which was not all that surprising. I appealed to her with logic and reason. At first, she was vicious and virtuous in her partnership with Akira as second-in-command, a bond that made her beholden to him. If she started believing that Akira’s actions were unjust, how could she come to terms with herself if she was still supporting him?

Futaba and I had an unspoken agreement not to reveal our identities to the other Thieves, but that didn’t stop us from talking to each other about it over text. She eventually confessed that she could not reconcile the Akira she knew from her father’s coffee shop with the actions of Joker. That’s why she didn’t want to help me as Medjed anymore—because she got to know Akira, and if Akira was doing this, it couldn’t be all that bad.

Rather than conduct his usual execution when Akira discovered Futaba was the Medjed blackmailing the Thieves, he entered her Palace and helped awaken her own Persona. Futaba saw this as a second chance. I see this as him understanding the difference between right and wrong, despite being continually misguided. Watching Akira in action during Okumura and Sae’s Palaces solidified Futaba’s belief that there was a disconnect between the man she thought she knew, and the one who wears the mask.

Haru did not blame me for trying to change her father’s heart, even though it seemed to ultimately result in his death. The more she and I talked about the incident, the more she grew suspicious of Akira. In the moments before we left her father’s Palace, he was more honest than he had been in a long time. Haru was confident that his Shadow had changed and that her father would follow suit, had Akira not returned to execute him.

With all six testimonies, Akira Kurusu’s fate was sealed.

Together, we hatched a plan to turn him over to the police, followed by a full confessional. When asked to testify, I will vouch for their characters; I know they truly regret the consequences of their actions as Phantom Thieves.

Despite everything, how he changed, how he manipulated his friends, all the deaths, I will vouch for Akira’s character at his trial too. A life in jail is probably the best that can be done, but I know how he went astray. When he accused me of being lonely, which was completely accurate, he was talking about himself too. A young man in a new city with no support system and unthinkable power suddenly thrust at him, what else was he to do but try to make the best of it? Akira was incredibly talented at seeing others’ innermost self, but he could not see his own and he would not let anyone in.

_Any existence can gain tremendous power once the chains on its heart are broken._

I’ve said these words before, too. Somewhere, somehow.

* * *

Akira is going to be executed as leader of the Phantom Thieves as an example, completely bypassing a trial. An eye for an eye, they said.

That’s how we find ourselves performing one final heist, all eight of us Thieves together, to change someone’s heart for real, just like what we were going to do to Sae’s Shadow before I called in the cavalry to arrest Akira. Just like what Morgana and I had done in Mementos with the Shadows of everyday people in need.

The target: Masayoshi Shido, the man pushing for Akira’s execution.

Akira deserves a fair trial, not to be locked away in some dark, secret room in the police station, never to see his friends or family again. I can’t let it end like this, him believing to the end that he is uncared for and unloved.

When the news was made public, Futaba, Makoto, and I investigated, some of us using more legitimate methods and resources than others. That’s how we discovered the name.

Identity known, Ryuji and Ann followed Shido, trying to be casual, but that proved difficult with how much attention they tend to inevitably draw to themselves. They persevered and traced his movements to the Diet Building. That’s how we discovered the place.

Yusuke, Haru, and Morgana infiltrated the Diet Building to find out more about how Shido thinks. Haru pulled strings and arranged entry on the ruse of an ‘important meeting’, bringing in Yusuke as her assistant with Morgana hiding in a bag. While Haru distracted high-level associates, Yusuke snuck away to Shido’s office and set Morgana loose to eavesdrop. That’s how we discovered the mindset.

Shido. Diet Building. Ship.

I don’t know what Akira was thinking in that moment when he saw us standing behind the crowd of police, but he needs to know that this execution was a far cry from our intention. I’ll show him a different kind of justice from what the Phantom Thieves have been doling.

I _won’t_ let it end like this.

* * *

**[December 20XX]**

Shido’s Palace is unlike any the Thieves have encountered before.

“It’s creepy, why haven’t run into many shadows?” Panther is right, the ship deck was completely bare, and we’ve only seen a few in the foyer.

“I’m more concerned about the ones we have encountered,” Morgana comments. “Did you notice them backing away from us?”

“Maybe they’re intimidated.” Skull cracks his knuckles. “We’ve never had such a big group before.” His words are bold, but he is just as nervous as everyone else. If this doesn’t work, Akira will be…

“I have never seen a shadow preemptively run from a fight.” Fox has only been on one Palace excursion, but wanted to help Akira however he could. “The more likely interpretation is that Crow is a known public figure, and therefore Shido’s cognition is letting him pass.”

“Or maybe it’s because we were just in his building, Fox,” Noir suggests. Despite believing that Akira single-handedly murdered her father, she is vociferously opposed to Akira’s execution. She wants justice to be properly served and asked that I don’t share our suspicions with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, without knowing the full story from Akira.

“Still, the quiet is… uneasy.”

“Let’s do this as quickly as possible and be done with this awful place,” Queen encourages us. The group elected her to temporary leader of our final mission, but she didn’t want it alone, and asked if I would share responsibility with her. Together, we lead the eight Phantom Thieves into the fortress on the cruise ship. When we reach the end of the main hall, we split up and see what we can find out.

If Shido really has been spearheading a conspiracy involving Maderame, Kaneshiro, and Okumura, who knows what other foul play we might find in here. The change of heart is not only our selfish desire to save Akira—although it certainly started out that way, but I can’t even bring myself to feel bad about it because anyone who would execute a teenage boy without a trial is an extremely twisted individual—but it’s become something more, something good for the rest of society. Taking down a man who believes himself to be untouchable. Akira was right about that part of the justice of the Phantom Thieves.

After gathering intelligence, Oracle reports. “We’re going to need letters of introduction from five people.”

“That’s just like Shido,” I point out. “To be paranoid and put up defenses involving his closest confidants.”

Morgana gives me a look. “I thought you said you didn’t know him that well?”

“…you’re right. I only ever saw him a few times at the police station.” I think back on our interactions but can’t put a finger on anything memorable. “I suppose it seemed obvious given all we’ve discovered about him.” It looks like Morgana wants to say more, but he holds his tongue, instead sneaking furtive glances at me as we continue to explore this hellhole of a ship.

And truly it is like hell, the sky and water outside a crimson color, as if bleeding society dry, buildings crumbling like society’s deteriorating free-will. The cruel imagery didn’t stop there; in some hallways within the ship, just being near a statue of Shido transforms us into defenseless mice to be crushed by his ego. The air is heavy and tinted red with no apparent colored lights. It must be his vision of the world reflected through his own rose-colored glasses.

As we move throughout the ship, the air becomes smokey and feels like poison in our lungs.

“Oracle, can you detect any fires?”

“Negative, Crow.”

“Can you get a reading on the lighting? Why the world seems to be red?”

“Nope, and it’s not only the red. There are more distortions that look like safe rooms, but they’re definitely not. It’s also a lot darker down here than when we first started out, but the lights seem to be operating at the same level as they were.”

Queen shivers. “It’s like the world is trying to break us.”

“We won’t be broken so easily,” Panther says.

Two more of our senses are assaulted when we reach the lower levels of the ship. Fox says the air tastes of foul food. I’m not sure how he knows, but it’s likely torture from when he lived as a slave under Maderame. Noir says it smells like the decomposing food she uses in her garden.

Morgana groans. “My poor eyes, nose, and mouth. We can’t take much more of this.”

He’s right, the group is close to a breaking point. Retreating to the entrance would be prudent, but time is running out. Akira once said it takes several days before what we do in here manifests in the real world, and if Shido is elected as prime minister, no one will be able to stop him.  

“Let’s collect the final letter, then finish up tomorrow.” I point to a grate in the side of the ship’s side deck. “The engine room is just through here.”

“How’d you know that?” Skull asks.

How _did_ I know that? “Lucky guess,” I shrug. If I’m honest, I probably could have drawn a map of the entire ship from memory the moment we stepped on board.

We obtain the final letter of recommendation with little resistance, but the small victory is short lived. Something in the air causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise, and my breath to quicken. I want to warn the others before they climb the stairs from the engine room that something, _something,_ is going to happen, something inevitable and unavoidable that we’ve been working toward each and every time. _Every time?_ This is the first time we’ve ever been here, but then again, it all seems so familiar…

What does it mean? The only way to know is to take that first step, with no guarantee that it won’t be fatal.

There’s a clatter in front of us and something rolls down the stairs. It looks like… part of a doorknob? I gently poke it, and it crumbles the rest of the way to dust just as a strangled warning from Oracle rings out in our ears: “Look out—someone’s coming!”

* * *

**[Interlude, December 20XX]**

Arrested? Check.

Arrested _more than once_ within a goddamn year? Double check.

Betrayed by friends and someone who could have been so much more? Oh, I fucking hit the jackpot on that one.

If betrayals were counted as riches, I would be as rich as goddamn king.

It’s not going to end here, though, not in this dingy, damp-ass room in the basement of the police station. Not a damn chance. I’ve worked too hard to train everyone for the job and cultivate our brand as Phantom Thieves. They think they’ll make an ‘example’ out of me? The only ‘example’ I’ll be setting is one of fear.

I tap my sneakers together. Leg restraints. I flex my hands and feel my skin chafe against metal handcuffs. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in this room, but after they so graciously dropped me here, no one has come back to question me. The camera in the corner of the room doesn’t look like it’s recording either.

Goro has likely disbanded the Thieves by now—how did he even figure out the rest of them? His influence was much greater than I thought. I shouldn’t have spent so much time trying to seduce him to my side. Months wasted.

Only eight individuals know who I am, plus a few junior police officers, but the latter are expendable. It’s the eight I need to take care of, all a liability. And by ‘taken care of’, of course I don’t mean anything vile, even though they did backstab and betray me when I needed them most. No, the most vile business is reserved for one person and one person only: just one person in the group of eight.

Before I can get there, though, I need to kill Shido if I’m ever to walk out of here a free man. I overheard the police grunts name drop him, as if that would impress me, that I’d be shaking in my fucking boots.

I don’t care about Shido. I don’t need to devise a grand plan to kill him, so long as the deed gets done. But Goro… how should I do it, I wonder? Would it be poetic justice to lock him in this room, tie him up, drug him into helpless submission, and when he looks at me with those big, beautiful red eyes, begging for another chance, shoot him in the head?

Justice, executed.

I tug on my gloves and pace around the room, my boots making heavy echoes in this small space. I’m getting ahead of myself. First things first: get out of this room and kill Shido at all costs. He’s the one who started this whole damn mess in the first place—my first arrest, which brought me to Tokyo which lead me to my _second_ arrest in Kamoshida’s Palace, and now a _third_ time—so it’s appropriate that with his death, he will bring about the beginning of the end.

When my heel hits the ground again, I realize something is wrong. My hand rests against my chin, and I feel the smooth texture of my gloves. I look to the table where my handcuffs lie broken. I’m walking around. And I’m wearing Joker’s clothes.

“Persona?” I ask the air, but no one shimmers into existence from the mask sitting on my face. Am I in the Metaverse or not?

I try the doorknob and it crumbles in my hand. _What the…_

The hallway is void of life, but not of the supernatural. A thick, red mist swirls in the air, humidity unbearable, and it tastes like something expired. The space towards the end of the hall is darker and kind of shimmering. I toss the remnants of the doorknob at it and they go through, phasing in and out like when we enter the Metaverse.

As I walk closer to the portal, a voice begins to resonate in my head.

_{Death awaits you and the others if you do nothing. Have your decisions been a mistake?}_

Arsene.

_{It doesn’t have to end like this. If you reflect on the bonds you have nurtured, you may still—}_

I shove Arsene’s voice to the back of my mind and step through the portal.

_Let’s get this fucking over with._

 

**A Forgotten Truth Will Break these Binds through**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and for your lovely feedback! <3 
> 
> This story was originally only supposed to be three chapters, but I decided to make this chapter a little shorter than planned, and greatly expand upon the ending in a forthcoming chapter 4!


	4. Repetitious Events in our Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the game, we play

**[December 20XX]**

At the top of the stairs, the inevitable.

_…“long time no see”…_

Akira. As if he was always meant to be here, waiting for us with a lazy grin and a dagger twirling between his fingers.

“You…?!”

“Why are you here?”

It’s impossible. Shido would not have released him, so how could Akira have escaped the interrogation room? Impossible; yet here he is, somehow having broken out to find us like it was instinctive, as if he just _knew_ we would be here, at this time and in this room, in this Palace. Or, something else could have been guiding him, something buried deep in his memory too.

“You’re so interesting, Goro.” Akira’s lips twist into a cruel smile. “How was it that you were able to turn everyone against me, hm? What lies did you tell them, Crow. You were always so good with your mouth, spinning fiction into ideals. You are solely responsible for tearing us apart.”

“It’s not us versus you,” I say slowly. “You’ve fostered strong bonds with everyone here—”

“—not that strong apparently.”

“—but they are! See?” I sweep my arm across the Phantom Thieves standing behind me. “We’re here for you. We all know what Shido is planning is unforgivable and we’re here to stop it. You would do the same if it were someone else in trouble, wouldn’t you?” He says nothing, only spins his dagger around and around. “Akira, can’t you see how similar we are? All you’ve ever cared about is helping your friends. This could have been the other way around…” 

And for a moment, my vision blacks out and my nerves buzz with the feeling of my clothes clinging to my skin in the humidity of this engine room, the crunching sound of the gears grinding, the smell and taste of metal in the air; it’s all the same. Except—

    _…“all I care about now is killing all of you to prove I'm better than you”…_

—it’s _me_ who’s in agony, who’s filled with rage. Loneliness.

“Under different circumstances, perhaps.” His dagger stops spinning. “I’m about to kill you, and you feel you understand me better?” He slips it back into its sheath. “How wonderful. You must be on cloud fucking nine, mister empathy.”

The others try to convince Akira to stand down, to join us in changing Shido’s heart, but he dismisses them too. “Oh, Goro, what tall tales you’ve poisoned them with. I thought you were with me, but when every single one of you abandoned me, I realized that this is how it was always meant to be. You put pretty labels on abstract concepts like _justice_ and _friendship_ ,” he spits, “but only power matters. Rage matters. That, and having others recognize it in you. Those are the true bonds of _friendship_.”

“You’re wrong, Akira. Rage is blinding. Revenge is short-sighted—”

“Don't lecture me, you piece of shit!” The light dips and flares around him. “You’ve known it was me for _months_ and you didn’t turn me in. I saw it in your eyes then and I see it now: you’ve enjoyed our game of cat and mouse.” Under his breath he mutters, “And I did too.”

Sentimentality doesn’t overtake him. “But who cares. I’ve got you all figured out now, Crow.” He raises a hand to his mask and promises, “Rest easy and die.”

It’s a surreal experience, standing in the room I’ve been seeing in my mind for so long, its metal walls and stale air in the bowels of this familiar yet foreign cruise ship, hearing these words and facing off against the person I care about the most as he takes a breath to scream at me:

_“go down with me!”_

It’s too much. The flashing memories, Akira’s words that are somehow mine? I'm off-balance, stumbling to the side, but not from the attack; it’s Yusuke who’s pushed me. He deflects Akira’s attack and falls into a defensive stance beside me.

“Akira, it pains me to see you in so much anguish.” Yusuke sounds equally pained himself. “When we first met, I was drawn to you because of your potential to see the best in others. Where has that compassion gone?”

“It was never there, Yusuke. You misjudged me.” 

I'm slow recovering from the familiarity and words of this place and the push, but Yusuke is prepared; he knocks me out of the way again, purposefully throwing himself into Akira’s next energy attack.

Akira whines like a petulant child. “After everything I did for you, Yusuke. After I _killed_ for you to break your prison, you repay me by protecting _him_?” 

He’s unstable. Watching his friends betray him, each of our attacks chipping away at the legacy of Phantom Thieves, of Akira's leadership and ideals. There is hardly enough energy for words. Even so, when Makoto switches in beside me to face off against Akira, she doesn’t have anything she wants to say. Neither does he.

Ann tries next but Akira doesn’t want to hear it, and accuses her of subverting his authority. Ryuji can’t bring himself to join the fight; the fact that he will not stand with Akira a betrayal in and of itself. It’s another betrayal when I call forth Loki; I never got a chance to tell Akira how similar we are, both able to hone multiple personas, and now that Futaba isn’t feeding him intel on my new powers, it’s almost unimaginable how Akira is feeling. But we can’t stop. We have to get him to stop first.

Haru grips her axe too tightly when Akira taunts her, saying her faith in me lead to her father’s death, so Morgana steps in to take her place. Morgana tells me that while Crow and Loki are excellent fighters, Goro Akechi understands what drives people. Morgana encourages me to do what comes naturally.

What comes naturally… talking, applying compassion, empathy; Akira would shoot each one down before it left my mouth. My methods are of no use. We’re going to fail. His anger and stamina push him beyond our skills and willingness to do harm. Up until now, I’ve been playing along with his assault. Being driven back, step by step, perfectly following the choreograph of how he must envision it: push me until I slip. Tear me down, make me confess my crimes. Prove his justice is superior.

We’re going to fail. 

Then Ryuji taps my shoulder and falls into a fighting stance beside me, cracking his knuckles. “Crow, remember what we practiced together even when Akira said it would never work? Show him it does.”

It’s a move that exposes one teammate for the sake of another. A move that involves trust beyond anything else. Akira thought it was impractical and foolhardy.

I run to the right, Ryuji close behind but just out of Akira’s reach. Akira tracks us, readying his attack, until I stop and Ryuji jumps up and kicks off against my legs, effectively catapulting him in the other direction leaving me on my knees and completely vulnerable. Akira gloats thinking that Ryuji hurt me and abandoned me. He thrusts his dagger into my thigh and is pleased for the few seconds before Ryuji sneaks around from the side and punches Akira square in the face.

The impact reverberates through the collapsing room, leaving Akira finally stunned. In the silence of his betrayal, Ryuji reaches out for Akira’s shoulder and speaks gently. “Snap out of it, man. Why are you fighting us?” Akira looks down and doesn’t answer. He’s bending.

Ryuji continues to push him to our side. “Please just talk to us, Akira, you’re our best friend. We love you.” Akira’s face darkens and he bends the wrong way. He snaps. 

Akira slams Ryuji against the wall with a wind attack that breaks bones. 

“Akira!” I rip the dagger out of my leg, and use his jacket to stand and draw him close. “Look at what you’re doing to your teammates! Weren’t we ever friends?”

 _“teammates!?”_ He covers my hands and squeezes. _“friends!?”_ His nails draw my blood. _“to hell with that! you’re just some ~~~ trash living in an ~~~!”_

The words are spoken with Akira’s mouth, but they are no longer his. They never were.

The weight of something powerful and unknown sends me back to my knees, and I hear Akira stumble and find the ground too. Healing agents are offered to us both, but I’m not injured, not really. Potions and spells won't be of any use; only answers, and only Akira. From the way he’s looking at me, he needs the same.

The Thieves physically restrain me, but I’m shaking and my vision is blurring, and nothing will stop the physical or metaphysical pull towards Akira, not even the numbing of the world as other memories take shape. 

_…“let’s finish this”…_

_…“I agree. there is no need to speak any longer”…_

No one in the room is talking. I can’t hear anything. But I _hear everything_. 

_…“how does someone like you have things I don’t!? how can such a worthless piece of trash be more special than me!?”…_

Akira can hear it too. “Goro, you feel it, don’t you? You can hear us?” 

The voices in my head first heard long ago, but never truly forgotten. They repeat again and again, accompanied by moments in a parallel existence and the memory of a gunshot ringing out on a ship, this ship, intended to save Akira from my cognitive self. 

We’re no longer a threat, not in our current state. That battle is done, over when Akira and I hit the ground, confused and holding our heads and hearing us say things we have no right to be saying. Our desperation is stronger than reason and the Thieves don’t stop us anymore. 

A life flashes before my eyes when our hands touch. It’s not the one I’ve just lived; it’s different. Ugly, lonely, and full of rage and revenge. I pull back but Akira is faster. He closes in, removes my visor, and wipes the tears that run uncalled for down my face. His fingertips hover above mine, looking into my eyes waiting for approval. _Push through it._ I have to know. I nod and he entwines our fingers to give each other strength as we finally learn the truth about our past:

In the end,

_…Morgana saw through me. “you don’t really hate Joker, do you?”…_

_…Ryuji did not blame me. “ready to call it quits?”…_

_…Makoto acknowledged me. “your wit and strength far exceeds ours. I was honestly envious of your natural ability”…_

_…Haru showed compassion towards me. “I have no intention of forgiving you for what you did to my father, but I sympathize with you”…_

_…Futaba understood me. “because you went through life alone, the power you awakened was fueled by lies and hate”…_

_…Yusuke confided in me. “you excelled at everything over us. yet that was the one thing you lacked”…_

_…Ann smiled at me. “it’d be a problem if you kept getting in our way. wanna come along?”…_

_…Shido’s cognitive Goro Akechi taunted me. “did you truly believe you’d be spared after all the murder you undertook? were you actually feeling good about having someone rely on you for once? I'll give you one last chance. shoot them”…_

_…I trained my gun on Joker. “don’t misunderstand. you're the one who’s going to disappear!” and I shot that cognitive thing and then the bulkhead control. the last thing I remembered, what I will always hold dear, is Akira’s voice when I asked him to make a deal with me…_

_…and with that deal, Akira saved me. “I promise”…_

I bury my face into my hands. I want to speak, but Akira’s voice, that unmistakable empathy, keeps echoing in my mind and I cry instead. Alone, I am trapped. Lost in my own head, repeating the old pain, all the killings done by my hand, my own cruelty. Repeating. Repeating. 

 _Repeating_ — 

“What have I done?”

It’s Akira speaking.

Akira. If he remembers as I do—

Again I scramble away, kicking backwards but he grabs my wrists as I try to scratch my face to erase myself from existence because oh god I killed Haru’s father, I killed Futaba’s mother, I betrayed the Phantom Thieves and I shot Akira point blank in the head and I was _pleased_ with myself.

Something wells up from within me, my old psychotic power, that filth always a part of me just lying dormant until I cracked and shattered. Akira holds my wrists, struggling against me, with me, and he emits his own darkness instead of his impermeable light. For a moment, we share in the agony, feeding off each other, our minds unlocked and our personas unstable. Anger. Rage. Hopelessness. The words are just concepts that I try to grab onto, but in reality, I’m empty. I’m nothing.

The room explodes into darkness, and I lose consciousness.

* * *

`MY, MY. IT SEEMS YOU HAVE FINALLY GRASPED THE TRUTH. YOUR DOWNFALL IS NEARLY UPON US. I AM TRULY PLEASED.`

* * *

What is meant by the expression ‘welcome home’ when ‘home’ is just a construct made up of walls and bricks and society’s standards? Is it the feeling of belonging and comfort? A place where you can truly be yourself? Growing up the first time, I never experienced anything I’d be willing to call ‘home’. I came closer this time.

When my bangs are brushed out of my eyes and a light wind breathes across my face, I realize that home isn’t a place, unless it’s allowed to be one that moves. It’s the feeling you get when you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in someone’s arms, looking up into their eyes.

“Akira…” 

 _Home_.

Akira's fingers pause when he sees I'm awake, then he helps me up. We sit beside each other in silence until he clears his throat but he doesn’t know the right words.

I don’t either, so I start with the obvious. “Well. This is…” Terrible? Awful? Fucked up? “Confusing.”

“If that isn’t the understatement of a lifetime,” he scoffs, but smiles wryly, knowingly, and unimaginably lonely, even though more than once he showed me what home is like, befriending me, forgiving me, _saving_ me, especially when I did not deserve it.

Keeping my voice light, as if the weight of our world didn’t just crash down on us, I try again. “This is… quite an unusual situation we find ourselves in, but I think we can learn something.”

“Yes, Goro. We’ve learned that some people deserve a second chance, and some people don’t.”

“Hold on, that’s not what I was going to—”

“You were saved and look at what you did in this life. You made friends, you nurtured relationships. You stood up for justice! I was given a second chance and I absolutely fucked it up.”

What the hell is he talking about? “How can you possibly say that, Akira? You remember what I was. I’m that same person! The very same messed up person, and nothing will ever change that no matter what I did this time. You can’t come back from that.” 

God, you really can’t. I’m a piece of shit, through and through. Even so, Akira stuck with me the last time, so why is he digging into me and dragging me down now? Doesn’t he want to rise above it with me, together? Or was I mistaken.

Akira shakes his head. “Stop. Listen to me. I was in the exact same situation as you, and I—”

“I know, I know! Akira the great leader, _you_ didn’t do it. _You_ found your strength in the Thieves while _I_ ruined you all—”

He slams his mask against the ground. “No, listen! I did the _exact_ same thing as you! I used my own power to taint bonds by manipulating people. I didn’t trust my friends as equals. I lead them as a detached leader, ruling with my will and fear, rather than guiding them as a team. This time, I was the monster.” Akira comes undone like I’ve never seen him before. No, that’s not true. I’ve seen this before: _he looks like me from the last time._ He keeps unraveling, words running together barely pausing. “I didn’t know any better, I found my own sense of justice and forced it onto the others, and I killed Kamoshida and Maderame and Kaneshiro, and I betrayed the trust of my friends, I killed Haru’s dad, I planned to kill Makoto’s sister, and you…” he finally takes a breath. “Goro, I imagined what it would be like to kill you too. I thought it would be beautiful.”

What have we done? Between the two of us, how many lives have we ruined over and over again? How can we ever build a home? We’re seriously fucked up. The both of us.

This moment in despair is all I allow myself. We need to focus; this line of thought won’t help us solve the greater mysteries right now and the feeling of being watched is growing stronger. Setting aside the massive question—what is happening; seriously, what the hell is happening—

“What’s the last thing you remember from the last time?" I ask. "And do any of the others remember?” I’ve purposefully avoided looking around the room since I regained consciousness, afraid to face the judgment of the Thieves. However, they might hold the key to understanding this nightmare.

But the Thieves no longer stand above us. They too collapsed and have not yet regained consciousness. Yusuke is the closest and thank god there’s a pulse. His eyes are closed but he doesn’t appear to be in pain. Each one is the same. Some have fallen in less comfortable positions and I struggle to maneuver them by myself.

“Akira, for god’s sake, help me move them!”

“We failed last time.” He still sits in the middle of the room, motionless since his last outburst.

“Last time? Our friends are hurt _right_ _now,_ and _this_ is our chance to fix it.” Looking around the room again, “Where's Morgana?”

As if summoned by his name, Morgana emerges from a dark corner. “Your energy wave knocked them out earlier. They should be okay in a few hours.”

“And what about you?” I ask. “Didn’t it affect you too?”

“No, I’m special.”

Even now, when life as we know it is a repetitious lie, Morgana is Morgana. That fact only brings me small comfort. 

The room is a right mess: me and Morgana together like old times but nothing is like what it was before. Six Phantom Thieves scattered on the ground, Morgana helping me move them, with Akira, our fearless leader, sitting paralyzed in the middle of it all. 

Akira turns the other way when I sit beside him. “What did you mean, ‘we failed’? Damnit, will you look at me? Akira. What happened after you made that promise to me in this room the last time. Did you take down Shido? You did, right?”

“No. We didn’t make it out of this room alive.” He fidgets with the mask in his hands. “Futaba lost your signal and then a voice spoke to me. Said we failed our rehabilitation and would play again.”

“So we… died?”

“You did, yes. I… reset, I guess.” A pause. “I’ve heard that voice since then, too.”

“He calls himself Yaldabaoth, the God of Control,” Morgana says, sitting with us. If this wasn’t so awful, it might seem like the three of us were staying up late at a sleepover, sitting cross legged on the floor in a circle, and the rest of our friends fell asleep early. The imagery and the absolutely absurdity almost makes me laugh. 

Almost. Then I remember that I’m supposed to be dead.

Morgana’s voice turns bitter. “Yaldabaoth sent you back to repeat for his pleasure. ‘The game cannot continue without both wild cards intact,’ he said. I tried to guide all of you to try to find a better resolution and avoid the same disaster as before, but I was too late. I only remembered the full truth when Akira found us here in this room. Otherwise, it was like bits of my past were urging me to do certain things that I could never really explain.”

“Wait, guide _all_ of us?” I echo. “You… brought Yusuke to the train station? Futaba to the café when Akira and I were there? And Haru to Mementos to awaken her powers. None of them would have awakened this time without your help. You were subconsciously trying to gather the team in this new reality to win, and we failed again.”

Disgusting, how we’re being played by some unknowing force that doesn’t care about us.

Disgusting, how we played right into its hands.

Twice.

Akira whispers from his spot on the floor, “God must have torn reality apart to bring me here to face you. The Metaverse and reality merged in my jail cell. That how I came here. It’s all falling apart.”

“That might explain the earlier assault on our senses.” The Metaverse and reality merging, desires and power coming head to head with facts and human failings…

I turn to Morgana. “What purpose does he have in forcing us towards confrontation? Why do this at all, what does he want?”

“He’s bored. He wanted a show.”

“Fuck that,” Akira scoffs.

I completely agree. 

“Would he do it again?” I ask. “Just for _fun_?”

`YES, MY TRICKSTERS, THE DICE WILL MOST CERTAINLY ROLL AGAIN.`

A voice rumbles through the room, the walls and floor, shaking it apart. The god.

`BUT I AM DISAPPOINTED IN YOU TWO. I EXPECTED GREATER DEEDS, BUT YOU LET YOUR LUST FOR REVENGE BRING FORTH YOUR OWN INSANITY, AND YOUR WRATH IN LONELINESS DRIVE YOU TOWARDS DEADLY PASSIONS.`

“Why are you toying with us?!” Akira demands of the cruel sky. “You gave us these powers and forced us do this, didn’t you? You turned me into a monster!”

My head vibrates; the god is chuckling. We’re _amusing_ to him. `YOU DID THAT YOURSELF. AS WILDS CARD, YOU HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO CHANGE LIVES AND MOVE FATE TO YOUR OWN WHIMS. WHAT A PLEASURE IT HAS BEEN TO WATCH, BUT ALAS, YOUR ACTIONS HAVE NOT SAVED A SINGLE SOUL.`

I shout into the void. “That’s not true! Akira has saved a lot of people, including myself.”

The void laughs back at me. `GORO AKECHI, FIRST KILLED BY A THOUGHT BORN FROM A SHADOW. AKIRA KURUSU, SECOND SENT AWAY TO ROT IN PRISON; FORGOTTEN, LIKE A SHADOW OF A THOUGHT. THIS TIME I EVEN OPENED A PATH FOR YOU, AND SEE WHAT BECAME OF YOU.` 

Enough of these damn riddles. “Look, this is our world, you imbecilic, disembodied voice, and I will not let you continue to manipulate me and Akira! Your secret is exposed. We will go and take care of our friends, help them remember, then destroy you so we can be judged properly by society and serve our sentence while having our minds at peace! We will _save_ everyone from your childish game!”

`YOU WANT TO SAVE SOMEONE? SAVE YOURSELVES FIRST, OR ELSE YOU SHALL SUFFER YET AGAIN. WILD CARDS WITH THE POWER OF RECALL YOU MAY BE, BUT YOUR TIMING HAS BEEN REMISS. YOU CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT IT.`

“Save ourselves, huh?” Akira’s shoulders shake, but his voice is steady. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you who I really am and what I’m capable of.” He takes my hand and pulls us to our feet. “I’m a miserable excuse of a human being. A foolish friend who’s lied and killed and manipulated the people I love, and the only reason they love me back is because I forced them to.” 

He faces me, no longer shaking. His eyes are clear. Resolved.

Shit.

“Goro, you’ll take care of them better than I ever could. At the end of the last time, you wanted to change. Me? This time? I know how far I’ve fallen. You were right, there’s no going back from the hell I’ve created. God is right too, I can’t save anyone.” Akira lifts his gun to his own temple. “Please take care of the world.”

It should never have come to this. If I am redeemable, Akira is too. He taught me that lesson the last this time around, and I need to teach him now. 

But I miscalculated. When I pulled the gun away from him, his grip was firm, and in the confusion between when I twisted his arm and when he tensed up on the trigger, his bullet meant for his head went into my chest instead. Feels like the first time. Unpleasant. Heavy. Sinking in my heart, and sinking to the ground.

Hands press against me. Akira. And another smaller pair. They try to stop the bleeding but it’s already been set in motion. Just like the first time, my request is the same: _save them, Akira. Do that for me. I know you are capable of so much more._

`TO BE FRANK, TRICKSTERS, YOU STILL HAVE MUCH UNTAPPED POTENTIAL. PLEASE, CONTINUE TO AMUSE ME AS YOU FIGHT IN VEIN AGAINST YOUR INEVITABLE FATE.`

God’s chains wrap around my heart and my mind, locking them away as he prepares to cast aside all we have worked towards in favor of a clean slate. 

The sound of Akira’s screams and god’s laughter lull me into the sleep of death.

-

-

 _the dice will roll,_ _yet one more chance_

-

-

**[Interlude, April 20XX]**

Morgana struggles to make a case against shooting Shadow Kamoshida, but eventually acquiesces to Ann’s reasoning: if Kamoshida didn’t remember our otherworldly encounters in reality, laying him to waste here surely wouldn’t make any difference. Ryuji defers to Ann, and Ann is determined to get revenge for Shiho.

_…“that day, we took justice into our own hands, even if the result wasn’t anticipated”…_

They seek a consensus, but my mind is racing: consequences and death echo around a metallic room falling apart and a jail cell with broken chains and crumbling doorknobs.

Ann’s whip bursts into flame, poised and ready to strike the Shadow—

_…“if there was another way, we would have done it”…_

“No.”

The air burns and her whip hisses, but the blow doesn’t connect.

“This… isn’t right.” It's kind of fuzzy, but my mouth pushes through the words. “I have a feeling that killing it here will ruin him in reality.” A memory is more like, but that can’t be possible; I don't know the first thing about Personas. “This castle is tied to him in the first place, isn’t it, Morgana?”

“Joker’s onto something.” Morgana becomes more confident as he speaks. “There’s another way to make him pay. We steal his treasure, the thing he values the most.”

Ann’s fury is palpable, but even if this was only a figment, her hate would fester. Despite carrying out a death sentence fantasy here, she’d be forced to see him everyday in reality. Just imagine what that would do to a person.

I don’t know what made me argue for restraint. It was as if something was reaching out to show me another way. Where did it come from, and what will it guide me towards next?

* * *

**[Interlude, August 20XX]**

Thanks to Futaba, the fall of Medjed launches the fame and notoriety of the Phantom Thieves upwards. Maderame and Kaneshiro confessed just as easily as Kamoshida did.

However, one person’s on the opposite trajectory: a downward spiral. Goro Akechi, the very detective investigating us, sits downcast and alone in Leblanc day after day after being proven wrong. Despite his opposition, this treatment isn’t fair to him. He must come here because he has nowhere else to go.

When he gives me a small wave and a joking ‘welcome home’, my heart almost breaks. It’s not pity—he wouldn’t want my pity, and I know how strong he is anyway—it’s reaching out for someone, pure and simple.

_…“you’re lonely”…_

It’s the same for me too, sometimes. Huh. After dropping Morgana off in my room, I bring down a dusty chess board and set it on the counter in front of Akechi. “Fancy a game?”

At first he’s shocked. He stares. I might have misinterpreted his personal and mental state, but it’s too late to back down now. Piece after piece, I assemble the board with sweaty fingers thinking about how this is a huge mistake, except Akechi’s still here and hasn’t told me to leave yet.

Akechi continues to be shocked right until I complete the board setup and turn to him. “Your move?”

His lips almost turn into a smile, but he thinks better of it and nods instead.

Akechi wins. He comes back the next day.

Not many personal details are exchanged during our games, though Akechi keeps a watchful eye on me, my hands, and the board, as if he will uncover a hidden agenda through the gameplay. It’s just a game, Akechi. I can’t deny how much I enjoy his company, though, especially the few times his mask slips, revealing how competitive he is. He plays dirty, distracting me with useless and random facts while I’m trying to focus, and intentionally moves pieces on the board when I’m not paying attention, all the while grinning and looking extremely pleased with himself. Revenge comes in the form of putting his pieces I capture in my pocket, until he pouts to get them back.

A few more meetings like this and it’s time for me to take the next step. “Let’s be friends, Goro.”

    _…“I’d like that, Akira”…_

He doesn’t respond in the way I expected, with a small, shy smile and my name on his lips. It’s better. He holds a hand to his mouth to cover a toothy grin that would have looked foreign on his normally controlled face, but it looks perfectly at home here.

“You continue to surprise me, Akira.” He says and looks back to the chessboard to move his queen to check my king. “Checkmate. I win again.” That grin is still there as he packs his bag. “I suppose that means I’ll have to come back and give you a _personal lesson…_ ah, that is, if you want?” His confidence and, _good god_ that seductive voice, waver, and it ends as a question, as if he’s not sure he can cross that line with me.

_Yes, Goro. It’s okay._

I wink. “Please do.”

* * *

**[Interlude, September 20XX]**

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I skip my classes—well, that’s not new—and wait for Goro outside his school.

“Hey there,” I greet when he walks past without noticing me.

“Oh, Akira, what are you doing here?”

 _He knows._ He is polite and composed as always, but the lift in his voice asks which side of me I have come here as. We play a game, exchanging stories, sneaking glances at each other and momentarily living a life without secrets and hesitation. Enjoying the other’s company as it should have been. As it could still be, if only—

“What do you think, Goro?” I stop walking and face him. This is the most important question I’ve ever asked. I force my hands into fists so they don’t betray their shaking too much. “Will you…” Swallow the nerves. Focus. “Will you go out with me?”

“Akira…” Goro rests his hands on my arms, then slides them down, unballing my fists, and intertwining his fingers with mine. “I thought you’d never ask. Yes. I’d love to—”

And before he's even finished speaking, he's reaching for my face, and I for his tie to pull him closer, a tangle of lips and limbs in a messy public display of affection.

It’s incredible.

It’s terrifying, being so close to someone and having your eyes closed, trusting and knowing that they are doing the same, lost in your embrace, entirely and completely caught up with you. His hair is so soft and his touch is explosive where his nails and lips and teeth drag across my skin.

When we eventually pull apart, he shyly invites me over to his apartment.

The next few weeks go by in a whirlwind that I fully attribute to Goro Akechi. Even though we are slowly giving all of ourselves to each other, not all our secrets are shared. I haven’t told him about my involvement with the Phantom Thieves, but I think he knows anyway. He’s hiding something too.

We both want to change, both knowing we can do better. For the sake of our relationship and our future, we promise to give each other a month to wrap up our less savory affairs, freeing us to live in life together.

* * *

**[Interlude, October 20XX]**

Haru Okumura asked the Phantom Thieves to change her father’s heart to escape her fiancé. I refused. Instead, I used my connection to Iwai to buy her a one-way plane ticket out of the country, and Kawakami to alter her school records. Ohya helped redirect the news and speculation surrounding her departure.

This wasn’t what Haru had in mind when she asked for our help of course, but we can’t keep using the Metaverse anymore. Even though I don’t agree with all of Goro's TV statements, we really _have_ been forcing people to change, undergoing a severe kind of forced therapy where we mentally break people down and build them back up according to our specifications. It’s disturbing to think about what we’ve done, but Futaba was thankful for her change of heart. Her case keeps me from turning myself over to the police.

The deeds we’ve already done cannot be invalidated; even Goro agrees we helped the victims, teaching society and even the police a powerful lesson: listen to those who ask for help. Moving forward, we must all have more faith, starting with each other. The fact that Goro is on his way over to Leblanc for our nightly dinner is proof of that effort.

The door chimes, but it’s not him; it’s Sae Niijima.

“Sorry Niijima, I’m about to close, but I can give you a coffee to take with you?”

She shifts on her heels and looks at the floor. The walls. The TV playing softly in the background.

“I have something to tell you,” she says. “It’s not good news. Would you like to sit?”

It’s kind of annoying she’s come by so late and is being so evasive when I’ve got to finish getting dinner ready. “I’d rather you just say what’s wrong.”

Instead, she walks to the TV and turns it off. Odd. She returns to the counter and puts a hand on my shoulder, takes a deep breath. “There was an accident.”

“Is that why Goro’s late coming for dinner? Because he’s going to be involved with this new case?”

“No. Akechi…”

I drum my fingers impatiently on the counter.

“He was trying to pull out of some complicated cases. Over the past month, he’s been secretly giving me binders full of unsavory information about influential political candidates, including the forerunner for the prime minister race, Masayoshi Shido. These files would bring Shido’s career to an end.”

 _So what_ , my mind supplies.

“Akechi is in the hospital.”

 _With the victims of this new case?_ I encourage her to continue.

“He fell unconscious about an hour and a half ago. I came here right after I saw him.”

My fingers immediately still.

“He was turning in his final paperwork to resign from being a detective today. Then he clutched his chest and fell to the ground and there was… a lot of blood. His eyes…”

_Impossible._

“…symptoms consistent with a mental shutdown.”

_…_

“Do you understand, Kurusu? He was turning over information that would ruin Shido. There’s no other explanation. It was hit.”

_No._

“Goro Akechi was murdered.”

_…“his signal is gone”…_

_No. No no this is a lie. It’s sick._

“He’s been spending a lot of time with you lately, so I wanted to tell you before you hear it from someone else or see it on the news. If you recall from the earlier cases, the victims don’t have much time after their symptoms manifest. He’s not going to last much longer.”

_No no no no nononononono_

“…will try to cover it up. Paint it as an overworked teen idol. A suicide…”

What once were words, become sounds. Just noises, pitching up and down coming from Niijima’s general direction. Soon, it’s not even that. A high-pitched whine permeates the air as other memories fill the world around me.

_…I slam my fists against the metal door until blood trickles out of my gloves. Akechi, why did you do this. why did you leave us? there was enough time for you to get out of that room before shooting the bulkhead lock. you didn’t have to die for me…_

_…the gun rings through the air, anguish overtaking reason. learning what I had done, the monster I had become, what was one more death? my own. I couldn’t save anyone anymore. the bullet was aimed for my head, but Goro and his beautiful heart tried to save me. it cost him everything. again…_

My body finds the floor, whether I sat down or collapsed, it doesn’t matter. What does anymore? Goro is gone. Again. Again. _Again_.

I grab my face and howl, Arsene’s mask molding around my eyes like it did once before when I was full of rage, but now it’s not rage against the injustice done against me, but against Goro.

Three times. How is it possible for someone to die _three times._ And each time he believed in me. He believed in us this time, and our ability to reform society together.

When the mask peels away with my blood, it’s not the mask I know. It’s shape is the same, but it’s a deep black, almost purple, with seven coiled white embellishments around the eyes in place of the spikes that were there before. Beautiful.

I toss it to the side.

Beautiful. But worthless.

Goro, how can we escape this? Did you think of me in your last moments? Did you remember us from last time? Or the time before? How can I go on without you, knowing what I know now?

`A GAMBLE MADE IN EARNEST TOWARDS A DIFFERENT PATH, TRICKSTERS.`

The voice of god returns. Always watching, even when it doesn’t end on that ship that’s brought us nothing but death in our pasts.

`THE RULES OF THE GAME HAVE BEEN VIOLATED. TRY AGAIN.`

My eyes shut, and for once, I welcome the silence of the world collapsing and folding in around me as god resets the game.

-

-

 _to break this mold_ _and dance the dance._

-

-

**[June 20XX]**

Two years of doing bitch work for Shido makes the moments when I secretly invade his innermost circle of confidants all the more enjoyable. It's Maderame's turn today. Not the real him, of course; the secrets within his mind.

My phone brings me into his cognition but he’s not where he usually is, gawking over the statue erected in his magnanimous likeness, or fawning over his pupils’ portraits. Instead, deep within his cognition, I find Maderame on his knees begging for mercy, and a man in a black coat and a dark mask looming over him.

It’s over quickly. Black Mask shoots Maderame dispassionately in the head and retreats. Maderame’s form crumbles and the world shudders and collapses. I haul ass back to the entrance to avoid dying here. 

Who is this person? Are they acting on their own like I am? For all the hot air that Shido blows out, he must have been right about me not being unique in this power of mine. I need to find out more. A second individual with this power, in this city, lurking around a confidant of Shido’s? Certainly not a coincidence.

If this Black Mask found Maderame, there’s a possibility he’ll make his way through the same list of Shido’s confidants I’ve been compiling over the years. That’s not going to happen. Not some newcomer showing up and wrecking all my plans for revenge.

    _…“someone, be it god or demon, gave me a chance”…_

He thinks he’s conducting his own pursuit of justice? I shall open his eyes. My sole interest is in destroying Shido.

    _…_ “ _case closed. this is how your justice ends”…_

No. I won’t let it end like this.

* * *

**[July 20XX]**

Careful surveillance in the real world reveals a seemingly chance run-in between a teenage boy and the mobster Kaneshiro, one of Shido's connections. That’s all I need.

He’s a nightmare, this Black Mask. Once he reached Kaneshiro’s bank, he tore through it, impassive and determined to seek out the innermost vault. He introduces himself as ‘Joker’. He's got a foul mouth and a fuck-you attitude, and takes an interest in me. Our fight is exhausting, but I come out the victor. Perhaps I overestimated him; he’s really just a baby far from his home.

I pin him to the ground, straddling his side with my knees, and hold a gun to his head. “Too bad this didn’t work out, Joker. I feel like we could have been great friends.”

His eyes go wide, becoming glossy and hazy. There’s no witty response, no more struggling, he’s completely checked out. It's hard not to roll my eyes as I wait for him to come back. What kind of ploy is this, exactly?

The gentle touch on my wrists is unexpected. “Goro, is that you?”

How the hell did he know my name? My face is barely visible beneath Loki’s helmet, and surely my voice is muffled. “Trying to trick me, Joker?”

His smile is soft, and his fingers worm their way around mine _to hold my hand._ A strategy to disarm an enemy? His kink?

I push the gun harder against his temple, and he makes a frustrated noise—I’m apparently not reacting the way he wants, because he pulls me down by my shoulders, flips off my helmet’s visor to reveal the lower half of my face, and because _what the fuck is happening_ I’m so caught off guard, I let him kiss me.

When he’s done, he mumbles against my lips. “We’re not enemies. Not after everything we’ve been through, not after all these times. We were so similar in the first place.”

The gun is still tight in my grip and I’m utterly unable to form a sentence. In my silence, he hesitates. “You don’t… you don’t remember?” For the first time since that dazed look overtook him, he starts to pull away, but I don’t want to let him go. If he escapes here, I might never get my chance. I pull him close again and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my face into his neck to kiss the skin under his collar, and he inhales me, breathing a sigh of relief like everything will be okay, and for a moment, I believe it will be.

He helps me sit up and crawls into my lap, stroking my arms, my hands, anything he can touch. We sit together in comfortable silence, Kaneshiro’s cognition and our past deeds momentarily forgotten.

After a while, he speaks again. “It was really bad this time, Goro.”

“What was it like?”

He grimaces. “I was all alone. The other times I always had someone at the beginning, Morgana, Ryuji, Ann. But there was no one else trapped with me in Kamoshida’s Palace so I did what I thought I had to do. I saw Yusuke’s portrait inside Maderame’s gallery and wept for him without knowing why.” I rub his back when he gets choked up. “With no Phantom Thieves, Makoto didn’t seek me out. I never got the chance to connect with Haru, or bring Futaba out of her room. Bleak. Hopeless. That’s how I’d describe it.”

“Alone from the beginning, hm? Me too. For two years, I’ve been alone, this unthinkable power suddenly thrust at me, what else was I to do but try to make the best of it. I had no support system either, just an abusive boss and a negligent father. It made me really angry.”

“That sounds like a previous repetition for me. And the first time for you? But you had Morgana once, and you have me now.”

I stroke his hair and kiss his cheek. “What happens next?”

A new fire sparks in his eyes, pushing aside his fear and uncertainty. “Goro, let’s work together. We both remembered this time, so we’re at an advantage. It hasn’t gotten too bad yet, only Kamoshida and Maderame are dead. Let’s stop this repeating bullshit by destroying Yaldabaoth, together.” He lights up the room with his smile.

“I’d like that, Joker.” That smile falters as he processes what I’ve called him. Or rather, what I haven’t called him—  “Just kidding.”

His real name—

_Bang._

I don’t know it.

_Dead._

If Joker escapes here, I might never get my chance at revenge on Shido. It was easier than I thought, playing along with this crazy delusion of his.

He falls back against the ground, black mask slipping to the side uncovering his blank eyes that accuse me of betraying him, betraying our trust and love, when I have no idea what he was on about in the first place. Admittedly, it was nice to open up and cuddle and kiss a stranger. It sounded like Joker once had people close to him, but he lost them. I must have reminded him of someone he loved.

`SO VIOLENT, TRICKSTER, YOU BARELY GAVE HIM A CHANCE. HOW UNFORTUNATE.`

When the blood flows freely from Joker’s head, I feel a wetness on my face, but it’s not blood splatter; it’s only wet below my eyes.

_…“you wanted to be acknowledged, didn’t you? to be loved?”…_

What the hell? I—I don’t know him at all. It’s only been a month of me stalking him. I’d hardly call that a connection. Perhaps it was because he was the first person I ever opened up to, this time, or any time before…

_…“we could have been great rivals”…_

What?

_...“let’s be friends, Goro”…_

The sound of my voice and his echo and overlap as my chest constricts. I fall down next to this stranger.

_…“we failed last time”…_

Akira Kurusu lies dead on the ground before me.

Oh god.

Oh Akira, I'm so sorry, I didn’t remember in time, how could I do this to you? What were your last thoughts like, knowing that the one you loved took advantage of you and killed you in cold blood? How could you continue to love someone like that? I’m doomed. I’ve ruined everything. Why did it have to end the last time, we did so well! There were no victims and we were starting to pull out of this awful cycle of personas and death.

We can’t move forward if we’re stuck like this. We always live as if it’s our only life, but it’s not enough. If it’s a self-sacrifice? Repeat. If it’s an assassination? Repeat. If we defeat each other in battle? Repeat. No matter what, one of us dies and whatever slice of happiness we obtained in life, we have to fight tooth and nail to hold onto it but it doesn’t even matter. Over and over, how many times have we been set up as pawns of the devil. How can we ever break free?

Fresh blood runs down my face, and a pressure forms around my eyes. My helmet turns into a viscous material and slips off my head only to stretch across the front of my face, hardening into Robin Hood’s long nose, then clatter to the ground. The new mask is Loki’s deep purple instead of Robin Hood’s red; the color of a crow, with four grey spots under one eye, and three under the other, like freckles.

Funny. The color of my true nature merged with the name I most closely associate with my true self; the name Akira called me in all the times that we had worked together in the Metaverse during our past lives: Crow. As Loki, I am unable to do anything good. That mask has brought me nothing but pain and grief, but as Crow, I can do anything.

Akira, Akira, yes of course I want to work with you! I touch his face, his hands. I want to remember, please remember next time! The moment I see you, I want to remember this and all the times before. Your voice, your eyes, your faith in me, they give me life.

`YES, QUITE UNFORTUNATE, TRICKSTER. YET HOW WONDERFULLY AMUSING.`

Akira, please come back and find me again! Bring me home!

-

-

_`AGAIN, AGAIN, THE DICE STILL ROLL._

_YOUR FATE IS CAST. IN HELL, YOUR TOLL.`_

-

-

 _again repeat_ _until we find_

-

-

**[May 20XX]**

Death comes in May. 

The volleyball teacher at Futaba’s high school suddenly went off the handle, babbling and spouting nonsense about how a card told lies and should not be taken seriously. The next day, he dropped dead. Shujin Academy was dismissed early after someone found Kamoshida's body in his office, so I skipped the rest of my own school day, Morgana tucked carefully in my bag, to meet Futaba outside the front gate and escort her back to Leblanc. 

“Why don’t you come into the café today?” Futaba asks me. “I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind cooking for you, Goro, and I know Mom loves you, Morgana.” Morgana’s eyes light up at the prospect of being pampered by Wakaba Isshiki, and enjoying Sojiro’s specialty curry.

_…“don’t push yourself too hard”…_

“I can’t today, unfortunately,” I say. “Don’t look at me like that! The both of you are trying to guilt trip me. Niijima is completely baffled by this case, and she already asked me to spend time on it.”

“Just spend time on it at the café!” Futaba pleads. “Please? We got a new hire, and he’s pretty cool! He moved here last month and is actually living above Leblanc!”

“Even more reason why I should decline today. Too many distractions.” Futaba huffs, and I muss her hair while she jabs me in the ribs. “Another time, sis.”

When she leaves, Morgana looks at me suspiciously. “Something’s different.”

“From what?”

“From _when_ ,” he says pointedly. Eventually, he adds, “From before.”

No matter what follow-up questions I ask, Morgana doesn’t know the answers. After letting the subject drop, I blink a few times to remove the white afterimage glow surrounding my friend.

* * *

**[Interlude, June 20XX]**

In Kamoshida's castle, Skull pulled the trigger and Panther left without another word. Our friendship, it seems, was short lived.

Ryuji’s perspective is certainly understandable, taking out our anger and aggression to kill the figment because it couldn’t possibly be real. Yet Ann’s perspective is equally fair; she said Kamoshida’s death would never help Shiho, even if it was only a figment.

Though they elected me as temporary leader, I wasn’t able to make the kind of snap decisions necessary in our time of need. Reason and logic and something else were asking me to hold back but I was too late, and it turned out we were wrong about the figment. The only thing I can do now is move forward.

* * *

New faces are among Leblanc’s booths today. Two teenagers sit together, one with dark blue hair, the other with brown hair and the most beautiful red eyes I’ve ever seen. Futaba, Boss’s daughter, balances precariously in a chair at the edge of their booth, grilling them.

“Sooo, how’d you meet?”

“Just today on the subway,” the red-eyed boy says. 

“He has a beautiful aura,” the blue-haired boy supplements, and the other boy flushes.

I'm dragged by Futaba to their table when she notices me. “Akira! This is Goro, who I told you about. Goro and I grew up together, so he’s basically like my brother,” she says proudly, lighting up the cafe with a soft, verdant hue. Red Eyes stands up and stumbles over his words, his cheeks growing a more lovely red to match his eyes.

_…“may I treat you to lunch sometime?”…_

“H-hi, um. I’m Goro. Akechi. Futaba told me a bit about you, have we… met before?”

_…a dying world, a silent TV, and a broken heart when I realize you’re not coming home…_

He looks surprised, but it's the same for me, a weird feeling and a high-pitched ringing in my ears that won’t go away. The blue-haired boy has the right idea framing us with his fingers; we are a picture of pure, mutual awkwardness, me and this familiar-stranger starting at each other, Futaba gaping at us, and a cat meowing from somewhere.

Finally, I clear my throat: “Well, my name’s Akira Kurusu. Now you know me for certain, Akechi.”

He smiles, and it’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in all of my lives.

…my what?

The meeting wraps up with little fanfare: Akechi gets a phone call and leaves, Futaba trailing behind him sporting a wicked grin, and the blue-haired boy introduces himself as Yusuke Kitagawa. He seems kind enough, but I can recognize a liar when I see one. He's not 'fine', as he claims. Naturally, I want to help him in whatever personal trouble he seems to be going through with his mentor, and I know what Ryuji would want to do, but the choice is ultimately Yusuke’s. Inadvertently bringing him into something he doesn’t want to be a part of would be wrong.

Yusuke and I exchange phone numbers, and we make plans with Ryuji to discuss matters of life and death another time.

* * *

Maderame’s gallery, his very own personal Palace, is cruel. It’s sickening to see Yusuke and the others framed as literal portraits, _property_ hanging on the wall. When Skull, Fox, and I track down the piece of shit Maderame, however, a surprise awaits: two Persona users and an anthropomorphic cat stand in front of the Shadow, protecting it. One of them is Panther. She must have used her insider knowledge of our methodology to find a new group of persona users, and persuade them to interfere. How quickly allegiances shift.

The other Persona user has a black mask, long like a crow’s beak with smoky-gray freckles. It looks out of place on his face. For some reason, I was expecting red.

Panther, the crow, and the cat try to talk with the voodoo doll, _negotiate_ with it, but that’s not how it’s done in this world. Even so, they try. And they fail. My team fends off the newcomers and shoot Maderame in the head in Yusuke’s honor.

_…after Maderame dies, Yusuke is broken…_

When Maderame’s doll crumbles to ash and the Palace shakes, we call a momentary truce and run together towards the exit. We squeeze through the narrow halls in pairs, Skull with Panther—I can only imagine that conversation—Fox and the cat, and me with the crow.

“Come here often?” I ask as if we weren’t just trying to kill each other.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me along when I stumble. An act of kindness? Or simple naivety. “Look. Whoever you are, I know what you’re doing and how you’re affecting the real world. This is not justice, no matter what you think.”

Justice?

“Tell me your name.”

“Call me Crow. Yourself?”

Hm. 

_…“if our code names are to hide our identities, wouldn’t it be better that my name is the reverse of my appearance?”…_

His black mask says otherwise.

“I’m Joker.”

“Well then, _Joker_.” Names hold power, and the way he says mine prickles my skin and sends a chill runs straight to my core. 

If this Crow has recruited Panther to his side, then I bet we’ll meet again soon. The stakes have increased exponentially in this game, but there's still a chance I can get him on my side.

* * *

**[July 20XX]**

Since meeting Yusuke on the subway last month, we have kept in touch and made Leblanc our meetup spot. He said he was drawn towards me, and I admit I felt the same. He briefly recounted his suffering under Maderame before the death, and he seems a new person since. Still his same eccentric self, but not ashamed, no longer bound. This development is good for him, but it’s a shame it took the death of his mentor, no matter the foul play, to bring out Yusuke’s inner light.

Every time we meet for coffee, Yusuke tells me how he’d like to draw Akira and I together, though I’ve had few full conversations with Akira himself. It seems that Futaba, and now Yusuke, keep plotting for us to get to know each other better, and Akira himself helps that along by insisting I call him ‘Akira’. Not that I mind any of it, I just don’t want to appear to force myself on him.

Speaking of _…_

Into Leblanc walks Akira with Makoto Niijima, Sae Niikima’s younger sister.

“—with his name, he’ll be undone,” Akira is saying.

Niijima looks uncertain, “Aren’t the police preferred over the Phantom—?” She cuts off when she notices the full cafe, and declines staying for the drink Akira offered her.

Yusuke reminds me that we were previously having a conversation. “You see Goro? This kind of attraction, you are pulled towards him. As soon as you noticed him walk in the door, you immediately stopped listening to me.”

_…“it was, and still is, a bond that cannot be put into words. You will understand if you get to know him better”…_

“I apologize for that, Yusuke, but I doubt it has anything to do with him in particular. I’ve just been exhausted lately.” Since our run-in with the Phantom Thieves, Morgana, Oracle, Panther, and I have been conducting longer practice sessions in Mementos. We must avoid failure at all costs if they are to strike again, and indeed they seemed determined that Maderame would not be their last.

“Even so, your absent-mindedness is a part of you. You must nourish this.” He waves Akira over. “I was just telling Goro how you help bring out his inner self.”

I cough into my drink. “Yusuke exaggerates.”

Akira takes it in stride, even though his cheeks look a little more pink than usual. “Oh yeah? Is this another attempt to draw us, Yusuke?” Yusuke nods enthusiastically and Akira pauses for a moment with a finger raised to his lips, then he looks at me to ask and my hands go numb and my cup clatters against the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Let me get that,” but Akira’s the one to stand up to grab a cloth.

I exhale deeply, then shut my eyes, but Yusuke’s judgmental stare follow me anyway.

* * *

The next target doesn’t appear on the PhanSite; it’s someone I discover myself based on a hunch. ‘Eavesdropping,’ Morgana said. ‘Gathering resources,’ Futaba countered.

A curious expression passes over Sae’s face when I ask for her sister’s phone number, but she doesn’t question it. It’s not surprising when no response comes from Makoto Niijima. Honestly, I’m not sure I would respond to me either, a random text from her sister’s co-worker offering unsolicited and unspecified help?

What is surprising, is when she calls nearly two weeks later with information on the next target of the Phantom Thieves.

“I admit I wasn’t expecting your call, Niijima, but I appreciate it all the same. What can you tell me?”

 _“It’s a bit far fetched, honestly,”_ she mumbles into the phone, _“but Sis trusts you, and I—”_ a deep breath, _“—I n-need…”_ she stutters, _“…some help.”_

“Niijima, please tell me how can I help.”

She says that the Phantom Thieves’ methods aren’t ones that can be shared with normal people. Little does she know, I and my team are hardly normal ourselves.

I agree to help her investigate the unusual circumstances surrounding the next target, and that’s how Panther, Morgana, Oracle, and I find ourselves standing at the entrance to Kaneshiro’s cognitive world, alongside Makoto and her Persona. Her eyes widen when she sees our masks, but then she shakes her head with a small smile. She asks that we call her ‘Queen.’

Queen removes her mask and holds it gently in her hands. “When I realized what this power was and what we could do with it, it felt like everything I ever wanted. For the criminals who avoid the police and destroy lives, this was a way to find them and set them straight. But when I learned that the Phantom Thieves inflict death as a deliberate action, a shot to the head… that’s unforgivable.”

_…“everything I never wanted to be”…_

She fixes the mask back on her face, and the stale taste of the Metaverse momentarily dissipates in the face of her determination.

“They’ll call me a snitch.”

“It’s _not_ snitching,” Oracle emphasizes, and Morgana nods.

Panther, having also worked alongside the Phantom Thieves and having failed to stop them in time, understands better than most. “This is the right thing to do, Queen. We’ve been given this power, but we have to use it responsibility. No matter what they say, we have the chance and the responsibility to stop them.”

_…“we won’t be broken so easily”…_

Inside Kaneshiro’s vault, Skull and Fox are outraged at Queen’s defection. Joker is unreadable. This time, we hold them off long enough for Morgana to steal the treasure. Kaneshiro’s cognition vanishes, no longer in danger of being assassinated.

Skull berates Queen while Morgana and Panther defend her, and Oracles tries to gather information on Fox after he stormed off. Meanwhile, Joker slips a small piece of paper into my hand. When I return to the real world, I punch the number Joker scribbled down into my phone.

_[Crow] Well well. What did I do to deserve your number, Joker?_

_[Joker] Can’t I just give a cute guy a text? ;)_

_[Joker] But seriously_

_[Joker] We need to talk_

* * *

**[Interlude, August 20XX]**

With Kaneshiro’s change of heart, the rules of this persona game have been irrevocably altered.

“It’s uncanny,” Yusuke says, flipping to a new page in his sketchbook. “Crow’s belief in the human psyche and his unfounded faith in humanity’s goodness. After everything I have been through, it is difficult to imagine having such blind faith. I believed Makoto would have felt the same.”

Ryuji huffs. “Seriously, if the girls didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, fine, but they shouldn’t have interfered. It’s not like they’re responsible for us.”

“Turn a blind eye, huh?” I wonder. “What do you make Kaneshiro’s admission?”

“S’probably fake,” Ryuji shrugs. He leans back in his chair and plays idly with a piece of yellow string, twirling it around and around, the centripetal motion blazing a circle of almost blinding light in the middle of the space in my attic. “There must be some connection between the Palaces and reality, I mean there’s gotta be, because when we send the calling cards they go crazy inside. Kaneshiro probably knew he was in trouble and didn’t want to fight. It’s an act.”

_…“snap out of it, man. why are you fighting us”…_

“Death would have suited him better,” Yusuke draws Ryuji and the string in motion, bringing the scene and the light to life on the page. “Kanershiro will undoubtedly help the police now, but with the widespread corruption in the legal system, he will be out in five years, ready to commit more crimes. Sometimes there is no path for repentance.”

_…“it pains me to see you in so much anguish”…_

“Let’s continue looking for targets,” I say. “We can personally attest to the liberation of the victims of Kamoshida and Maderame, and nothing about that will change. Maybe Kaneshiro was a special case. We’ll find more cases like the first ones.”

_… the Phantom Thieves demand the lives of villains. a quick shot, that’s all it takes. each time, just one shot, until we learned of another way to operate and everyone betrayed me and I fell into despair…_

Ryuji and Yusuke look to me for the guidance that I failed to provide to Ann and Makoto. Still upset by our second betrayal, but somewhat placaded for the time being, Ryuji and Yusuke call it a night, leaving me alone in my room, taking the light with them.

* * *

_[Crow] But see how things resolved with the change of heart? No death, plus a confession admiting to other crimes._

_[Joker] Not everyone deserves to live_

It’s shitty and insensitive, and it’ll probably make Crow upset with how righteous he seems, but I can’t help it. There’s a small part of me that hopes he’ll change my mind. We’ve been texting like this since I gave him my number.

I let my phone ring five times before answering. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 _“Probably not,”_ Crow sighs into my ear. Oh, what a voice. _“But my fingers are tired and I have a feeling you didn’t mean what you said. I’d rather have it from your own mouth.”_

I lie down on my bed, unsure of what to say and stalling for time all the same.

_“Joker. Tell me you wouldn’t have cared if Kaneshiro died, knowing the good he did in the time since his heart changed?”_

“That’s just looking at it through hindsight. Who’s to say that Kaneshiro wouldn’t have been useless?” I present Yusuke’s argument from before, and after an uncomfortable silence, Crow agrees that we can’t consider the cases through the circular logic of hindsight.

I listen to him breathe and imagine what it would be like to hold his hands, his arms, touch his hair. Do… other things that I had only had the briefest passing fantasies of when I see him in action in the Palaces with his wild hair and challenging eyes.

“It’s strange." He hums for me to continue.“I know our identities are distorted in the Metaverse, but I thought I might be able to recognize you now for who you really are. We must not have ever spoken over the phone before.”

_“Also as evident that I don’t have you in my phone book.”_

“That would have been pretty awkward. Going to add you as ‘Crow’ and finding that you match up with a friend?”

_“I thought… I thought we might have already been friends. You seem familiar. But I guess I don’t know you at all, Joker.”_

The calls take place every night. Sometimes we talk about justice. Sometimes we talk about an imagined life in which we are both free.

* * *

It’s a risky business, this whole ordeal of playing double agent, living double lives. The potential for double crossing is within each of our grasps. Ann and Makoto try to talk to me in the courtyard after school about how much better things turned out with Kaneshiro than the others. While the words are their own, the tone is unquestionably Crow’s. The righteousness. Arrogance.

“God, you sound just like him,” I mutter.

Ann pauses mid-preach. “I didn’t know you two had spoken much.”

“You know who he is, Ann.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. And I won’t tell,” she snaps. “Just like I won’t tell him who you are either. This is a problem that exists in the Metaverse, and I will do everything I can do give _our team_ ,” she emphasizes and it stings that I’m no longer a part of it, “the upper hand in there. I will not ruin your life out here, Akira, but I will continue to try to convince you from ruining it.” Her voice wavers but the world blushes and the birds’ cries crescendo and break just before Ann says it; those damnable words: “We will show you what justice is.”

Ann and Makoto leave me standing in the courtyard, my breath coming in irregular gasps, to contemplate the bonds of compassion and volatility that have formed and twisted, and those that have snapped since this whole ordeal began.

* * *

_[Crow] I’ll call in five._

I don’t want to be lectured even more after Ann’s admonishment and this continual sense of wrongness, but I still answer when my phone rings.

_“What are the next steps for the Phantom Thieves, Joker? The PhanSite has picked up steam and there are now two polls: one for ‘death’, and one for ‘change of heart and trial.’”_

We’ve already started down this path. There is no going back.

_“Joker?”_

Justice. Executed.

* * *

**[September 20XX]**

Among the uncertainty of reality and the chaos of the Metaverse, there are still times when I can relax in Leblanc with Akira and his friends. I asked Ann and Makoto to join us, but they both declined. Futaba is getting more comfortable with crowds, but not strangers just yet. There are time when I can pretend that I’m just a normal teenager. No power over life and death and more concerned with homework and crushes than anything else.

Today is not one of those days.

Ryuji waves his fork in my face, articulating over the approaching thunderstorm. “You keep saying the Thieves are the bad guys, but I mean, haven’t you seen all the testimonies from the victims?”

I take a sip of my coffee. Ryuji is my number one antagonizer, but he’s sincere; he wants me to understand his point of view. His frankness is refreshing on the occasions when we get to debate like this, but today, Yusuke, Akira, and their new friend Haru Okumura wait for my reply with unusual interest.

I set the cup down. It tastes unexpectedly of lavender. “I won’t deny the feelings of the victims, but was it really necessary to take a life to get them this liberation?”

“As a personal victim of Maderame,” Yusuke interjects, “I feel like there was simply no way out. I would have remained forever a slave if he had not died. I was not strong enough on my own to take on the society that chose to shelter and protect someone like him. This is a part of me I wish I could have changed.”

    _…“a part of me… that same broken part of me which lead him to his death”…_

_…when the life I yearned for was destroyed and society protected the man who did it, the only thing I wanted was to destroy it back…_

I turn my eyes downward. Yusuke returns to his sketching, striking soft blue marks across the page that makes the paper and Yusuke himself stand out just a little more.

“I mean, the Thieves aren’t monsters,” Ryuji continues. “They aren’t targeting just anyone. It’s exactly the people who would never get caught otherwise. That's serving the greater good.”

    _…“show him it does”…_

Lightning illuminates the café. It lingers just a little too long.

I’m losing this fight. Their arguments are sound and if the result of the Thieves’ actions was anything but death, I would agree. Completely and one hundred percent. But that’s why we need to continue to change hearts like we did with Kaneshiro.

Haru Okumura shows me her phone. “Akechi. My father is listed at the top of both polls. What am I supposed to think about this? I thought I loved him once, but how could someone ever love a monster like that. How can I choose? How can I fight?”

_…“I can’t. against him, we stand no chance”…_

I place my hands over hers and turn the phone face down on the table.

“If you want my dispassionate opinion, forget that he’s your father. He’s a human being like anyone else. He’s gone down the wrong path, there’s no doubt about that, but life can change. We can all be the agents of that change, without the Phantom Thieves and these killings.”

Haru illuminates the café in her own way, bringing the taste of spring to this storm. She asks to speak in private with Ryuji and Yusuke who all venture out into the rain together, leaving the café to me and Akira.

“Why do you think the Phantom Thieves do it, Akira. Justice? Righteousness?”

“Nah,” Akira retreats behind the counter and I sit on a stool across from him. “They take an eye for an eye approach. The Thieves likely see themselves as sacrificial lambs. Someone has to do it. Someone has to pay the consequences that rend the soul apart when these deaths occur.”

“Stop exaggerating, Akira. You have a flair for the dramatic.” I try to grab the towel he uses to wipe down the counter, but he pulls it out of my reach. “I believe it started out in the name of justice. If it hadn’t, they would have picked a different victim profile. The Thieves have become misguided. It’s still possible to work together with the police, or perform these changes of heart. I believe the Thieves can walk that path again. Don’t you?”

He throws the cloth over his shoulder and slides his eyes over the empty cafe, then grins. Towel forgotten, Akira puts his hands on either side of me and leans onto the counter.

“You’ll have to prove it with evidence, Goro.” His voice is suddendly low and husky. “You said so yourself,” he lifts a hand to the side of my face, hovering down my cheek, “…it takes something dramatic for me to listen.” His hand drops without touching me, and he hoists himself up onto the counter.

He cocks his head. “Well?”

It must be a joke. A ploy to uncover the truth or make me slip or blush and change the topic. Akira has always been flirty with me—and admittedly I with him—but he always plays it as nothing serious. ‘Just kidding,’ he’d wink. But physiological signals don’t lie. His breathing is shallow and fast, his pupils blown wide, a slight sheen of sweat under his bangs.

It’s not a joke.

My physiology betrays me too. I shudder when he presses a finger lightly against my lower lip to pull it down, my pulse speeds in my ears when he holds my chin and guides my mouth towards his—

_…you shot him…_

—closer and ready to take all of him in for myself in order to understand the subtext of my mind, and—

_…he killed you…_

—he rests his hand on the back of my neck and I see multiple truths: Akira my savior. Akira my killer. My boyfriend. My victim. Who is the Akira in front of me now?—

_…still, you love him…_

—but then thunder crashes and we both jump apart. If I let go of myself here, it would be the end of me. I can’t resist. If I had him now, my investigation would end. Morgana, Futaba, Ann, and Makoto abandoned and without a leader because I chose to be selfish.

_…“well, thanks for the walk, Goro but I can make it the rest of the way by myself”…_

I can’t stay.

_…a persuasion that failed, and lead to our demise…_

I can’t leave him either.

_…“I thought you’d never ask, I’d love to go out with you”…_

Not yet. We’ve been dancing around the truth for months, with no sign of becoming exhausted or yielding. As Morgana once said, something is different, something just out of my reach.

“Akira. Why is your mask black?”

His smile is bittersweet. “I could ask you the same thing, Goro, but you already know the answer, don’t you?”

When I leave Leblanc and slide down against the wall in the alley across the street, I can hear Akira’s sobs through the windows until the rain and the cries from my own mouth drown him out.

* * *

**[Interlude, October 20XX]**

It was an impossible situation, but Goro was right to leave. We can’t be together knowing what the Phantom Thieves have to do. Not if we want to retain our newest ally, Haru. Despite Goro’s words to her in Leblanc last month, once she saw the demons within her father’s Palace, Haru changed her mind.

_People who have done the terrible things her father did have no path to redemption._

The confrontation with her father comes quickly. The fight is brutal, but we gain the upper hand against Crow’s team who try to protect Kunikazu Okumura. We box Okumura in and the others out while Okumura spouts garbage about using his only daughter as an asset in his rise to the top of the corporate world. Crow walks towards the front, fists clenched and eyes locked on the Shadow.

Morgana is the second to notice. “Crow? What’s going on?”

Skull and Fox hold out their weapons to block Crow, but I wave them down. Tell them to get behind us as I stand beside Crow.

Okumura continues bragging without noticing our tension. “She’s only here to help me advance. That’s what offspring are good for. Things to be groomed.” He sees Crow watching him. “I bet your old man did the same for you. You’re just like my daughter. An obedient dog—”

—then Crow’s gun is out and pointed against Okumura’s head.

Noir is his biggest supporter. “Do it, Crow. You’ve obviously gone through hell yourself with a father who probably didn't give a damn about you. I’ll give you mine as a gift. Kill my father to set us both free.”

His team begs him not to do it and comes to blows with mine as everyone tries to bend Crow and mold him to their own desires.

“Crow, what is it you want?” I whisper. “I won’t stop you, but I won’t encourage you either. You choose your own path.”

Crow screams and shoots the ground next to a shaken Okumura then follows up with a kick to the chest. He slams his gun back into its holster and swipes the Treasure from the floor before retreating with his team. Crow is surely fuming. Furious at Okumura, and at himself. But we all walk down our own path here. We all make our own decisions.

* * *

**[November 20XX]**

_Anger. Rage. Hopelessness. The words are just concepts that I try to grab onto, but in reality, I’m empty. I’m nothing._

_I’m undeserving of power and responsibility._

The front door of my apartment opens, and Makoto’s voice carries through the closed bedroom door. Morgana must have given her keys or learned how to use his paws to open the door. I roll over to face the wall and pull the covers up over my head.

“Goro? I brought you some groceries.” She stops at my door. “You probably didn’t want me to, but I talked with Sis. I told her you’re helping me with my job search and have less time to commit to work. Since you have an unofficial role with the police, you can take as much time as you need for yourself.”

The door creaks as she leans against it. “You know, I believe in what we’re doing, and how you’re leading us. Thank you for showing me that there was another way.”

_…if she started believing his actions were unjust, how could she come to terms with herself if she was still supporting him?…_

Ann stops by when I am well enough to leave my bedroom door open a crack.

“Goro, I probably understand better than the others. I’ve been where you are. I've felt that rage and injustice, but you know what? I didn’t do it. And you know what else? You didn’t do it either.”

She hums a short tune, and the melody blends and bends with the sounds of the world around us.

Futaba comes to visit next and sits down on the floor beside my bed. She doesn’t say anything, just sits with me like how I used to sit with her when her mother was sick.

Despite the gray winter air and chill, the trees scratching outside my window smile a bit brighter, imagining that they were swaying in summer.

* * *

Pressure is put on Sae from within the police, and she starts her own investigation of who is corrupt enough to want a scapegoat for the Thieves’ crimes. It quickly catches up with her and she is arrested. Put on trial. Masayoshi Shido, frontrunner for the Prime Minister seat personally promises her execution for being the culprit behind the Phantom Thieves.

It’s a last ditch effort.

_[Crow] I need your help._

_[Joker] Tell me_

“A prosecutor is going to be charged with conspiracy and corruption and murder. There will be no trial. She will be put to death.”

 _“You know what the Phantom Thieves will do once they hear of this. You know I’m now obligated to tell them. So why bother, Crow. You know how this will end,”_ he laments. 

“My sources tell me that our target is familiar with the Metaverse. We’ll need a big team to infiltrate and fight our way through.” That’s what Futaba’s research about Shido found out.

_“…We can help discover the keywords. We’ll enter the Palace together but I can’t guarantee anything beyond that.”_

“Thank you.”

_“We should do this quickly. Meet at Leblanc tomorrow night. Bring everyone.”_

…

“This is it, isn’t it.”

_“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, Goro.”_

“Yes. Good night, Akira.”

* * *

**[Interlude, December 20XX]**

To say the meeting between the nine of us unmasked is awkward, would be an understatement. It’s explosive: the smells in the cafe stronger and off balance, the seasons and tastes and sounds embattled, the light and colors heightened and dull, as if reality was unhappy with the way it appeared and wanted to reshape itself, or be shaped by those strong enough to hold such a power.

Yusuke and Futaba stare at each other, clearly trying to hold back their emotions. Slowly, they were both coming out of their shell, but now both retreat. Makoto and Haru were once best friends, but when Haru gained the same power as Makoto, she wanted to walk that path that Makoto had abandoned. Ryuji lunges at Goro, screaming that he couldn’t believe it, just couldn’t believe it, until Ann calms him down while Morgana paws at my leg, whining at me but unable to form proper words. At the center of it all, Goro and I sit at the counter as we did last month when we almost ate each others’ faces.

_Something's different. Something's breaking._

We can never return to those times. We can never pretend to be innocent or ignorant again.

* * *

An uneasy truce forms with Crow’s team, yet my team expects me to betray him when we obtain the last letter of introduction. The way Crow keeps a wary eye on his team suggests that they expect him to do the same. It’s the best we can do to hold together this fragile group of once and could-be friends.

But when Fox accuses Oracle of sneaking off alone to find a secret path for her team, and Queen accuses Noir of holding back intel regarding the third patron, sparks fly and masks are torn off until Crow and I step between everyone and physically separate our groups. I send Fox and Noir back to the real world to await further instructions. Crow sends everyone back but Panther, leaving the three of us and Skull to retrieve the final letter of recommendation. We’re exhausted, but it’s too dangerous to wait another day.

Unfortunately, our teams believe they know better than we do. They believe that Crow has manipulated me, and I him. That we are too close in the real world and unable to open our eyes to the truth. That’s why, when Crow, Panther, Skull and I ascend the stairs from the engine room, we see Fox, Noir, Queen, Morgana, and Oracle lined up, ready to fight each other for us. For their own flavor of justice.

I take my place beside my team. It didn’t have to come to this, but my team is right. If only Goro could see that people like Shido must be punished. There is no justice waiting for him. We have to continue to execute justice using our own methods. There is no other way.

* * *

**[December 20XX]**

The scene at the end of the world is grim. 

Teammates emblazoned in a battle of masks, throwing their powers against each other, cleanly divided into two sides.

    _…“weren’t we ever friends?”…_

Wasn’t there a time when we were all friends? Standing together, indivisible and trying to reach each other with words, not force. Akira at least tries. His eyes are wet and his voice shakes as we watch our friends destroy each other, but he doesn’t really want to hear what I have to say. I’m not good enough. In the end, Joker decides to fight.

He's in motion, readying his mask for an attack, when my world is ripped apart, filling me with my past:

    _…“go down with me”…_

_… I've always been alone, driven to kill to further my own agenda. I understood nothing, until you showed me I could live for something else. someone else. I chose to die for that belief…_

_…Akira, please come back and find me again! bring me home!…_

I throw open my arms and Akira’s mask glows blue as he stumbles into me and wraps his arms around me, squeezing until I can't breath but I don't care because my fingers are in his hair and his lips are on mine as he breathes: _I found you._

A moment passes in obliviousness.

The sounds of conflict, a muted silence. The smell of metal, replaced with the smell of fresh coffee clinging to Akira’s skin. My body, once heavy and sore from battle, now light and tightly wrapped around the one I’ve been searching for for so long, for so many times. The truth of knowing that we are in danger, that we are fated to die and repeat our lives for an eternity, is once again forgotten.

A moment passes in pure bliss.

The moment must be broken.

“Akira, how many times can we take this?” I pull away from him only to watch our friends destroy each other. They haven’t noticed our relapse yet, but they will soon and we need a plan before then. It was never supposed to be like this. It’s unbelievable that this is how we would end up after standing together all the previous times and drawing strength from each other. Yet now, because Akira and I are so strong and so different and so unsure of our own pasts, this is where it has lead to. “We are both capable of terrible things if we are alone. It’s not just us who gets hurt.”

Akira smiles, this time having found the strength to go on when all seems lost. “We are also both capable of great things if we understand and work together.”

Time after time again we’ve tried to use these powers without fully understanding the consequences of our actions or what it is that we truly desire at our own core. We _are_ volatile, of that there's no doubt. But in that instability and unpredictability we can change our fate. It takes more than just power and selfishness. It takes compassion and love to change the world.

I take Akira’s hand and lead him away from the fray, up towards the deck of the ship, but someone raises a warning and our friends surround us. There’s no time to explain and according to god, they couldn’t possibly understand not being wild cards themselves and not having the power of recall.

They think we’re being betrayed. They come after us, but Morgana raises his voice and holds them off. The same white afterimage I saw floating around him months ago returns, stronger than before, warming the air in comfort and peace. By now, Morgana might remember as he had in the past. I hope their trust in us prevails, if not from this time, then from all the times before.

_Believe in us to do what must be done._

For the first time in all of the times we’ve been here, Akira and I emerge back on the surface of this god forsaken ship, together. I wander to the edge, to where the twisted shapes of the city sit on the horizon, populated with powerless people stepped on and played with by Shido. We're just like them, in a way; Yaldaboath is our master.

I turn around to face Akira. “This is our chance. We need to gain the upper hand. We need to kill god.”

He joins me at the edge. “We don’t stand a chance as we are now. We need everyone. We’ve figured out the rules of his game by now: neither of us can live without the other.” He looks past me, out at the red sea, as if the winning move will suddenly reveal itself. “Goro, reset me.”

“Don’t ask me that, Akira, you’ll break my heart. You’re being selfish. I can’t watch you die or kill you again.”

“Then we do it together," he says, and takes both my hands in his. "Push me off the ship then jump in after me.”

“But what if it doesn’t work. Then we’re both dead and our friends are left inside this rotting hellhole, thinking we killed each other out of malice. What then? They’ll destroy each other. All the good we tried to do, gone. Sae Niijima? No one will be able to save her or stop Shido from corrupting society if we all go down here.”

“I have faith it will work, Goro.”

An echo of my own words from another time. This time, I can’t agree. “Faith? Akira, we have zero evidence and nothing to inspire that faith. We’re gambling not only with our lives, but with those we love. If we leave this world and it does not reset, we are damning innocents.”

“We’re different this time. Every time we remember, something within us changes.” Akira removes his mask. “ _We’ve_ changed, and so has the place where our power comes from. It’s not just from within ourselves anymore. It’s external, from each other. That’s why my mask is the same color as your first one, and why yours has marks under the eyes to match mine. We’re connected now, in our pasts, our failings, and in our potential for a future together. And not only us. See these colors?”

Huh? "Weren’t they white before?"

Akira smiles fondly at the mask in his hands. “We continue to change from the influence of those around us.” He touches his yellow coil. “Ryuji.” Next, the pink coil. “Ann.” Then the white, teal, dark blue, green, and purple. “Morgana, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba, and Haru. They’ve shaped who I’ve become. And you too.”

He takes off my mask, showing me the freckles around the eyes. These certainly weren’t colored before.

I touch each of the spots. “You know, there was a time when I never thought I’d be capable of anything like this. Do you think god chose me because he expected to see me fail? Did he know what I might someday become?”

“Who knows for sure,” Akira shrugs, then presses his mask into my hands. “But this? This is _faith,_ Goro. This is love.”

I give him my mask and kiss his lips, and it's a miracle he still wants me. But if this really is what Akira says it is… “Akira, let’s try again. This time, we’ll have our memories behind us, and faith in ourselves and our ability to take down a god.”

Akira takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes tightly. After standing like that for a while without moving, he sneaks a look at me. “Well?”

“Well what? I already said I’m not going to kill you again.”

“That’s the whole damn point!” He growls, and runs at me and my fighting instincts take over. I shift my weight, put my leg here, his arms there, and he goes flying off the ship, holding my mask in one hand and grinning like a fool who'd just won the jackpot. Damn him, riling me up just to use me like this. I bring his mask up to my lips and whisper a word of hope, take my last breath, then jump in after Akira to save him. To save us.

We try to find each other in the ocean, but it’s too turbulent. I can barely keep myself afloat and oriented. But that is the point, isn’t it.

Before the weight of the ocean takes my vision, a shimmering light in a rainbow of colors radiates from further below me, the water and waves warping and rippling around it, an awesome burst of power emanating from within my mask. Akira is wrapped protectively around it as he sinks lower. I cradle his mask and hope he sees the same from me.

Bubbles float in front of me. My eyes shut. my brain turns off. Mind. slows down.

… 

`TRY AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE, TRICKSTERS. THIS IS CERTAINLY NOT GAME OVER.`

… 

Ignore the voice. Think only of the others. Only of Akira. 

…

`YOU ARE FOREVER MY PAWNS. YOU HAVE NO MEANS OF ESCAPE.`

… 

Only Akira. Akira. Akira— 

-

-

_a way to snap these chains that bind._

-

-

**[May 20XX]**

“A local high school volleyball coach has suddenly confessed to abusing his students after he received a threatening note yesterday. The police are on the case, including Charismatic Detective, Goro Akechi who’s here with us today…”

The news report drones on as I slip out from under the store awning into the street. Anything to avoid the stares and not-so-quiet whispers from the people in the shop who turned their attention to my interview playing on the TV, even if that means getting drenched because of course my umbrella is happily tucked away back in my apartment. The little café down the street would be a welcome reprieve from the rain, but inside its TV is also tuned to my recent interview and a group of three students wildly gesticulate towards the me on the screen.  


Then something solid falls into my hands. It’s translucent when I look, as if not fully here, not fully ready to be here yet, but it’s trying. My fingers move over its smooth surface and pointed ends, tracing around the eyes and brushing across where I know the colorful swirling embellishments to be.

Loki and Robin Hood urge me forward. They’ve never made an impression on me in the real world like this since I met them two years ago, when Robin Hood appeared before me and Loki stood behind me, and Morgana whispered from the shadows.

Another voice speaks into my mind, one I haven’t heard before. The new voice lives within the object resting in my hands. I press the object, _a mask_ , against my heart, feeling it beat against mine.

_Have faith._

“Oh, welcome,” a boy from the booth stands to greet me when I enter the cafe, and returns behind the counter to get me a drink and a towel. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any customers with this weather.”

I blink my eyes hard, because the two students still sitting in the booth are glowing, bending reality around them and singing a mystery.

“Ah yes, well, unfortunately I forgot my umbrella all together," I say, "so your place is my only means for escape.”

“The only means for escape, huh?”

He steps back around the counter, coffee and towel completely forgotten.

“What’s that?” I point to his hands.

At first he’s puzzled, but then he carefully lifts the translucent object in his hands to his ear, its colors and memories reflecting off his face. “It’s name is Robin Hood. And there’s another, a twin: Loki.” He nods to the mask I'm holding. “I think you have something too?” I extend it to him without thinking. “We’ve only just met and you’re already giving me gifts?” he teases, genuinely curious to know.

The mask vibrates even louder in my hands. “I feel like it belongs to you in the first place," I say.

“Hold onto it for me then, until we figure out what it is. You won't say no, will you?” I shake my head and press his mask close to me again. He extends his right hand, holding my mask over his heart with his left. “I’m Akira Kurusu.”

_…“but this? this is faith. this is love”…_

 I take his hand. “Goro Akechi.”

_…“this time, we’ll have our memories behind us, and faith in ourselves and our ability to take down a god”…_

And here we stand: in a small cafe, holding each others’ hands and cradling an invisible and integral piece of each other against our hearts, as we watch the bonds of friendship glow around us. Through our experiences, emotions, and decisions, we have lived and broken each other, again and again. Echoes from our past selves screamed out for us to remember, to not go down that same path of ruin when redemption was finally a reality. The cries of our friends and loved ones lost as they begged for something to change, only for their wishes to be cast aside when god reset the board.

All of it has prepared us for this moment, _this_ time, in which our minds are finally ready to revive the memories of our past before it’s too late. When we can hear loud and clear the forgotten truth of love and faith as we stood on the edge of a ship searching for a way out. Together, at last, we are prepared to break the binds that god wrapped around us, in order for us to finally reclaim our future.

 

**A Forgotten Truth Will Break these Binds through Repetitious Events in our Minds**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so soooo much to everyone for reading and showing appreciation of this story!! <3 <3 This is my first multi-chapter fic and the first fic I ever started writing, so it's very dear to me. I’m happy I could share with you all and keep improving my writing as I went along :D
> 
> Thank you again for taking this journey with me, I hope you enjoyed repeating over and over with these two!! <3 <3


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